


Fortune’s Fool

by suezahn



Series: Kismet [13]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Commitment, Death Star, F/M, Jealousy, Love, Millennium Falcon - Freeform, Romance, Sexy, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 14:04:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12509108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suezahn/pseuds/suezahn
Summary: Han is feeling out of place and out of time as the events of RotJ overtake him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters depicted herein are the property of Lucasfilm, Disney, etc. My only profit is in the form of readers' feedback. Please be generous!
> 
> Note: This story was originally written in 2010 and has now be revised and updated for consistency with the rest of the Kismet Series. A very special thank-you to my lovely proofreaders: Erin Darroch and Marjorie Joyce.

O, I am fortune’s fool!

—William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

 

Dost thou love life? Then do not squander time, for that’s the stuff life is made of.

—Benjamin Franklin, Poor Richard’s Almanac

* * *

 

Han Solo had never been one to sit and philosophize on life, nor contemplate the deeper whys and wherefores of events in the universe. Even though he dealt on a daily basis with speeds that warped time and boggled simpler minds, he’d never wondered what time itself meant. Why the hyperdrive motivator of the _Millennium Falcon_ worked wasn’t so important as if it worked, and making sure it stayed that way was his primary concern. Time had only mattered when it came to how long the stretch might last between paid smuggling runs, or how quickly he could outpace a Corellian-built star cruiser, or how long he could push the patience of crime lords and princesses.

For the first time in his life, however, Han was discovering how relative time could be and why that was significant. The revelation left him inundated in a surging tide of unfathomable questions. For instance, how was it possible that six standard months could feel like little more than a few seconds?

“Han?”

_Six months?!_ His own mind boggled at that massive warp.

“Han?!”

A small hand took hold of his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, causing him to start. He blinked hard, looked up into the bright sunlight, and despite his blurred vision, he was relieved all over again. Princess Leia Organa gave a gentle smile and resumed her seat beside him. She was now wrapped in a heavy dark cloak to provide her some protection from the twin suns still burning hot overhead, as well as to restore some sense of modesty. He couldn’t recall when she’d left his side but was glad she was back. More than anything, what had consumed him while blind and helpless in Jabba’s clutches had been his fear for her safety, but now she sat close enough to bump against him as they swayed with the movement of the skiff, each contact a gentle reminder of what he’d come perilously close to losing forever.

Seated on the low engine housing in the center of the armored skiff they’d liberated from Jabba the Hutt’s henchmen, Han drew in a deep breath and straightened up until the slipstream of hot air that buffeted them whipped his hair back. The exhilarating sensation felt at once familiar and new.

Manning the helm of the craft, Lando Calrissian redirected most of their gazes by pointing past them as he called out, “We need to make a decision pretty quick. That’s not looking good.”

Luke Skywalker straightened up from where he’d squatted down next to Han. “I think we can reach the _Falcon_ before that sandstorm hits, but it really depends on how Han is feeling. Obi-Wan’s homestead is closer and—”

“The _Falcon_!” Han blurted out, and then belatedly regretted it when he heard how desperate he’d sounded. But his first instinct was to go home and the thought of spending the duration of a storm anywhere other than on his beloved ship was motivation enough to make him not care. When he noticed they were all staring at him once again, radiating concern, he made an attempt to sound more rational. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me. Let’s just get off this dust ball.”

“All right, Han,” Luke responded with a calm smile. “I guess this place takes some getting used to.”

“No offense, Kid, but if I never set foot on this planet again, I’ll be a very happy man.”

“No offense taken. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Yeah, well, I mean it this time.”

Luke chuckled and reached to pat him on the shoulder. “Glad to have you back, anyway,” he teased. Then he moved aft to stand beside Lando and aid with navigating.

Leia nudged Han and leaned in a little closer, drawing his attention back. “You’re sure—?” she began.

“I’m okay.” _I’m okay. I’m just…okay._

Still trying to absorb the enormity of it all—of all these people caring enough to risk their lives for him like that, Han sank back into his own thoughts.

As he’d spent the long night huddled with Chewbacca in that filthy palace dungeon cell, shivering and groaning through the worst of hibernation sickness, his best friend had explained the events of the past six months while he’d been entombed in carbonite: their narrow escape from Bespin, the long months of unproductive searching before Boba Fett finally made his appearance on Tatooine, the fretful planning, Lando’s conversion, Leia’s determination, Luke’s transformation.

How could it be that so much had occurred—so much had changed around him and because of him—in that span of time, and yet nothing had happened to him in those infinite seconds?

_You mean nothing other than dying and being brought back to life?_

Seated at his other side, Chewbacca’s large hairy hand rose into view, holding out a canteen. «You should drink some water.»

Han blinked hard again and waited for his vision to clear, but the effort failed and he brought up a hand to scrub his eyes in frustration, desperately trying not to think about what might happen if his sight never returned to normal. He’d only ever wanted to fly and the fact this side effect of the carbon freezing continued to linger frightened him on a visceral level. What would become of a pilot who couldn’t trust his eyes?

Once again he felt Leia’s gentle hand, this time as she stopped him from rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry they’re still bothering you, Han, but that’s probably just making it worse. Do they hurt?” Without waiting for a confirmation, she mumbled something in Alderaani that he guessed was negative from her tone. She shifted beside him and glanced out past the bow of the skiff as if willing the craft to fly faster.

Considering their audience, Han wasn’t expecting what happened next and he jumped in surprise as her hand alighted upon his thigh, just above the knee, to give a reassuring squeeze; before he could move his own hand to keep hers there, it was gone and he felt a stab of disappointment.

«We have medications on the _Falcon_ ,» Chewbacca supplied. «You should have some water.»

“I don’t want any blasted water, Chewie! Will you two stop fussing, already?” That outburst earned him another group stare of concern, which only irritated him further. “I don’t need a nursemaid, I just need….” _I just need time._

Leia’s voice sounded huskier than he remembered, as if she were the one in need of water. “Just a few more minutes. We’re almost there.”

As they raced against the clock, the towering wall of blowing brown sand that angled toward them was so dark that even he could make it out as it rose high into the sky and threatened to blot out both Tatooine’s suns. The vanguard of the storm arrived only moments after they reached the shallow valley of dunes where the _Millennium Falcon_ and Luke’s borrowed X-wing were parked.

Much as Han wanted to take his time reacquainting himself with his ship, weather conditions outside were deteriorating. They’d donned an odd assortment of protective goggles and clothing stashed in a storage compartment of the skiff, in case they’d miscalculated their arrival, but it wouldn’t be enough once the storm hit in full force.

Perhaps sensing why Han had stopped walking, Lando elbowed Chewbacca and said, “Let’s go get her warmed up, Chewie.”

Chewbacca agreed, but paused before following Calrissian up the entrance ramp. «Don’t linger or we’ll have to wait out the storm here.»

“Right. Just give me a minute.”

Han felt Leia take his arm as she stepped up beside him and said, “They took good care of her.”

“Yeah, that’s what Chewie said.”

Luke paused to look up at the _Falcon_ as well, and then turned to face them both. “I’m afraid this is where we’ll have to part ways for a little while.”

“What? Why?” Leia sounded both surprised and upset. “Aren’t you coming back to the fleet with us?”

“No, I have some unfinished business first. I need to complete my training.”

Just as stunned as Leia, Han grunted in disbelief. “You’re not finished? All I saw was swirls of black and green, but it looked pretty good to me.”

Luke chuckled and then shook his head. “Thanks, but no. Not yet. I left prematurely to…to help out with the rescue, but I need to go back now.”

“Will you be gone long?” Leia asked, not sounding at all like she was satisfied with his answers.

“I don’t know.”

A brutal gust of wind whipped past, forcing them all to brace against it and pull the random pieces of protective clothing a bit closer.

Han squinted at his friend, and finally, for just a moment, his vision cleared enough to give him a chance to really see how much Luke had changed. The last time they’d spoken had been while saying goodbye on Hoth for what they’d both suspected might be the last time. Back then, Luke had still been very much the fresh-faced and ebullient fighter pilot Han considered a friend, but the man standing before him now was different in ways his change in hairstyle and black outfit could not explain; it wasn’t only his clothing that had become darker.

_Didn’t I always tell him to be careful what he wished for?_

Luke pointed at the _Falcon_ ’s ramp. “Go on, you two. I’ll see you soon.”

Leia released Han’s arm and rushed forward to give Luke a tight hug, then stood on her toes to say something in his ear that the wind whipped away before Han could hear. Luke’s response was to press a quick kiss to her temple before letting her go. Then he turned back to Han, and Han moved forward and stretched out a hand. Luke took it in a sturdy shake, and they spontaneously moved together for a quick hug as well. “Thanks, Luke…. Thanks for getting me out of there….” He clapped the blond on the back in comradeship before letting go. “But you still owe me one.”

Luke risked a mouthful of sand when he laughed, then yelled against the increasing roar of wind. “Get out of here before I have to dig you out in the morning.”

Leia gripped Han’s arm and tugged him up the boarding ramp. Out of pure habit, without needing to look, he punched the controls to raise the ramp and seal the ship as they reached the top. The growing roar of the wind outside was abruptly cut off and they were left standing together, surrounded by the comforting and familiar stillness of the _Falcon_ ’s central hold. It was disorienting to think that it had been half a year since the last time they’d stood together in that spot when it felt like little more than a day.

Leia dropped the cowling of her cloak and peeled off her goggles, but then seemed to hesitate on whether to remove the rest, her eyes darting to the corridor that led to the cockpit.

Putting the pieces together, Han realized she was probably self-conscious about the degrading outfit she still wore underneath. The thought of what she’d endured, the humiliation and gods only knew what else, made his blood simmer. It was just as well he’d been blind when brought before Jabba for judgment; had he witnessed her chained up and treated as a slave, he’d have likely gone berserk. Even now, the murky glimpse of the thick golden collar of metal around her neck that peeked out from the rough cloth of her cloak was enough to make his hackles rise and his breath grow short.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

Leia looked back up to him in surprise, although whether it was more from his sharp tone or his sudden feral look he couldn’t say. She gave a simple nod and smile, as if the answer were obvious. “I’m fine.”

That was her standard response to everything, no matter how dire, but this time, he wasn’t placated. “I _mean_ it. Are you okay? Chewie told me how…. Did they…?” Han clamped his mouth shut, unable to voice his worst fears.

Her expression sobered, guessing where his thoughts had gone. “I’m sunburned, my legs are scraped up, my arms ache, and it’ll take a week of hot showers before I even _begin_ to feel clean again…but I’m fine.”

He could feel his blood pressure ratchet up another degree with each injury she listed and his eyes raked over her hidden form, trying to spot the signs of damage, not even sure of what he’d do if he found them.

“Han!” Her voice assumed the sort of regal authority that left no room for debate. “I. Am. Fine. And your debt is canceled. Permanently.”

“Leia….” Words had never been his strength and now was no exception. What she’d risked, what she’d sacrificed to find him and bring him back from death itself—it awed and humbled him. How could he even come close to deserving that high a price? “Thank you for coming after me.”

Her expression lightened into that relieved smile again and she reached up to touch his cheek, as if making sure it was flesh after all. “It’s what I do. Just don’t go making a habit of it.”

He recognized his own words, spoken during a similar exchange after they’d escaped Echo Base on Hoth, and the shared memory finally brought a smile to his lips. He bent forward, intending to kiss her properly, but the moment was interrupted by a loud Wookiee roar echoing out from the cockpit and he had to settle for a quick peck on her forehead.

“Come on, they’re ready to go,” he said gruffly as he captured her hand and squeezed it, then led her across the circular corridor and down the short passageway to the cockpit.

With Threepio seated at the communication station behind the Wookiee and Calrissian occupying the pilot’s seat, the tiny cockpit was already crowded when they arrived. Lando began to rise and clear the way for the ship’s rightful captain, but Han waved him back down.

“Stay. I don’t trust my eyes yet. You and Chewie take her up.”

Lando paused in surprise, then gave Han a relieved look before returning to the preflight duties. “I’ll be happy to.”

Han turned back to Leia and indicated she should sit in the empty navigator’s position. He dug into the deep pocket on the back of Chewie’s seat and pulled out a spare multi-tool. “Let me see that,” he said as he pointed it toward her neck.

Realizing what he intended to do, she leaned toward him and pulled away enough of her coverings to expose the heavy collar still encircling her graceful neck. Han gingerly lowered himself down onto one knee to steady himself as the _Falcon_ ’s engines roared and the ship shuddered before rising into the sky.

Over the years, he’d picked more locks than he would ever admit to her, but the learned skill served them well today as the slave collar proved little challenge; even in his compromised state, it popped open within moments. He caught the device before it could fall to the deck, but when he saw the red welts where the metal had chaffed her pale skin, he threw it against the cockpit hatch with a clank loud enough to make the others jump.

_Getting scattered across half the Dune Sea was too good for that slug bastard._

Han twisted away to return the tool to the storage pocket. When he looked back up to meet Leia’s unwavering gaze, he was shocked to discover a tear running down her cheek, the rivulet blazing a shiny trail through the grime and heavy makeup the slave handlers had forced upon her. Whether this slip in her usual self-control was due to relief or gratitude or some deeper sadness, he couldn’t say, but the one thing he knew for sure was that she wouldn’t want attention drawn to it. Without a word, he brought his hand up, gently caught the next tear with his thumb, and used it to rub away some of the dirt.

Lando’s voice interrupted their silent communion. “We’re about to jump to light speed. Better brace yourself, Han.”

Reluctantly, Han drew away from the princess and used the armrest of her chair to leverage himself up. He moved behind her and leaned back against the rear bulkhead, his hands gripping the headrest of her seat. Grateful for the moment of relaxed scrutiny from the others, he closed his sore eyes and listened as his copilot and Calrissian went through the familiar steps of initiating a hyperjump, and then relished the sound of his ship’s engines as they switched over.

_Kest, she hasn’t sounded that good in years! Lando really did fix her._

The realization brought a bittersweet emotion with it, but before he could dwell much on why, the ship had stabilized in flight and the seat beneath his grip shifted. He opened his eyes and looked out the overhead canopy to see a swirling streak of stars even more blurred than usual.

«I’m hungry,» Chewbacca announced, to no one’s surprise, but his timing was perfect and the mood instantly lightened as if they’d all been waiting for permission to relax.

Leia was the first to her feet. She turned and stopped in front of him. “I’m going back to get cleaned up.”

“Okay. I think I might stay up here a little longer.”

Her expression turned enigmatic for a second and he squinted at her, wondering if it was his imagination or if he’d said something wrong, but then she leaned in, gripped his arm, and gave him a quick kiss. “All right. Chewie, don’t let him do anything too strenuous,” she called out in parting before disappearing through the cockpit hatch.

“More strenuous than dangling over a Sarlacc pit?” Han muttered too late, which was just as well.

Chewie climbed out from his station and made for the exit, but gave Han a pointed look in passing. «Do you think she means sharing your bunk with her?»

Han flashed his friend a rude gesture in response and Chewie hooted in ribald amusement as he left, which was also just as well. Then he watched as Lando finished double-checking the flight controls before rising from the seat and turning to face him. Han didn’t move, his hands still clenching the backrest of the navigator’s seat as they looked at one another for a long moment in tense silence.

Before either could speak, Threepio piped up. “Goodness, but that was more than enough adventure for me! It’s such a relief everything worked out in the end, but what a disappointment that Master Luke and Artoo could not join us for our voyage back. I was so looking forward to—”

Reminding himself that the nattering droid had assisted in his own way with the rescue, Han made an honest attempt at remaining civil as he interrupted. “Threepio, why don’t you go back and help Chewie put a meal together?”

“Oh, but of course, Captain Solo! While that doesn’t strictly fall within my usual duties or expertise, I would be more than happy to—”

“You’re still here talking, Goldenrod,” Han ground out in a low growl, already giving up on patience.

“Oh!” The protocol droid fussed a little more but got the hint and shuffled out.

The hatchway hissed closed once more, finally leaving Han alone with Lando. They continued to eye one another for a long moment, then Han used his grip on the seat to haul himself upright once more as he released a long sigh and straightened out his aching back. Everything ached, now that he thought about it.

“Han, I want to formally apologize for—”

“Don’t bother. Chewie told me the rest of what happened on Bespin. I put you in a pretty rotten spot by showing up with half the Imperial fleet in tow. There wasn’t much else you could do with the whole city to think about. If anything, I should thank you for getting Leia and Chewie out of there safely, and apologize for costing you that sweet gig.”

Lando waved a hand and let out a little chuckle. “Never mind that. The Empire was already snooping around and making threats long before you showed up, and I was getting tired of the operation, anyway. Besides, Leia hardly needed my help. I think she was ready to take out that entire Imperial landing party on her own if I hadn’t dragged her onto the _Falcon_ …. That’s quite a woman you’ve picked up, Solo. I don’t know what you did to deserve her, but I hope you appreciate what you’ve got.”

Never mind that he’d often wondered the same thing since leaving Hoth, it was Calrissian’s flippant response and casual personal advice that made Han bristle slightly. Memories of Bespin were still too fresh in his mind, but he clamped down on the reaction by reminding himself that all this was old news to everyone else.

_What you’ve got…._

What did he have, exactly? Events had been coming at him so fast, often in a rush of adrenaline and a blur of motion while he’d tried to acclimatize and keep alive, that he’d had no time to think about what might happen next in his relationship with the princess.

“I’ve been using the spare cabin you rigged up next to Chewie’s in the number three hold,” Lando supplied without prompting, and Han suspected this was meant as further appeasement, a reassurance that his friend and sometimes-rival had never considered resuming the role of captain as anything other than a temporary condition.

“The old girl sounds good,” Han offered as a gruff thank-you.

“The least I could do. I knew we were probably going to need a fast ship to get out of that situation. We came _this_ close to getting you out, too, but….” Lando had held up his hand, making a pinching gesture, then dropped it back to his side, some of his energy diminished. “Time wasn’t on our side.”

“No….” Han trailed off, reminded once again of the inconsistency of time. A few moments too late had spelled six months too long for them but little more than an instant to him. But what if things hadn’t worked out the way they had? What if it had taken years rather than months to find him? How long would they have kept looking? How long would the princess have waited before moving on?

“Han, old buddy, I think you should turn in. Heads will roll if Leia learns you passed out up here.”

Han blinked, too late to notice he’d dropped out in the middle of their conversation. “Yeah, I think I will. Take it easy,” he said in parting, then turned and palmed open the hatchway. He walked down the short passageway to the circular corridor that ringed the freighter and headed for the main crew’s quarters that served as his cabin. Once there, he glanced around at the trio of empty bunks. Nothing had changed, as if no time had passed since he’d stood there last. With Leia’s return to the Alliance fleet after Bespin, and with both Chewie and Calrissian bunking in the makeshift cabins in the rear hold, nobody had used the space other than to access the fresher.

From what he’d been told, Leia hadn’t been with Lando and Chewie during their search, although she’d argued to come along. He could believe that. One of the few things they had exchanged heated words over while on that long trip had been whether or not she should accompany him and Chewie when they finally faced Jabba. That argument had been made moot by Lord Vader, and in the end, she’d gotten her way after all.

_“I’m supposed to be there when you face Jabba. I can feel it.”_

It was something Leia had said during that exchange. The memory made Han pause and frown, not sure of what to make of that eerie premonition, but he shook it off. They’d all made announcements like that from time to time, expressing bad feelings about situations that were bad to begin with; considering the lives they led, odds were good those predictions were bound to be right some of the time.

He glanced at the closed door to the fresher. He could hear the shower running and it brought a tired grin to his face. Long, hot real water showers, as opposed to the ubiquitous sonics aboard most military craft and within the temporary base barracks, were one of the few luxuries the princess regularly indulged in. Experience told him she would probably be in there for a while.

_That’s not a bad idea._

The thought of sharing a shower with Leia, of picking up where they’d left off before the disaster on Bespin, suddenly sounded like the best thing ever. Needing no more convincing, he reached for the door. He was already pulling the soiled shirt he’d lived in since Bespin up over his head as he entered the cramped and steamy room, only to nearly trip headlong into the opaque shower door before catching himself on the tiny basin. Letting out an oath, he yanked his shirt back down and looked down to find an abandoned pile of wrought metal and red fabric tangled around his boots.

All thoughts of a joyous and sensual reunion in the shower stall abandoned him, replaced by a ferocious rush of anger upon seeing the offensive outfit, a hateful symbol not only of everything Leia had suffered on his behalf but of his utter failure to prevent it. Despite his soreness, he swooped down to scoop up all the pieces, then swung around and exited the fresher, ignoring the sound of Leia’s startled voice calling his name from within the shower enclosure. He marched back to the cockpit, now empty, and viciously grabbed the slave collar that had been kicked into the corner like some malevolent creature.

With every scrap of evidence in hand, he strode through the main hold, ignoring the curious gazes of his other passengers who had gathered there to relax, and headed for the rear engineering bay, where the plasma cutter was stored. Within moments, he’d slammed the slave garb down onto an old storage crate, fired up the cutting torch, and with methodical determination preceded to break it all down into unrecognizable pieces of slag. The cloth portions caught fire and he belatedly scrambled to retrieve the fire extinguisher nearby, stationed there for emergencies, but was too late as fire alarms began to shriek throughout the ship. Once the flames were out, he looked up to find a very startled-looking crowd gathered at the bay entrance staring at him.

«What the _hell_ are you doing?!» Chewbacca demanded, his blue eyes wide.

Not bothering to explain, Han picked up the now-unrecognizable mass, shouldered past them, and headed for the port-side docking ring. Once there, he cycled open the inner hatch, threw the remains of the slave outfit into the airlock, resealed the blast door, and punched the outer hatch stud. A new and different klaxon joined the loud din in the corridor. It was only after he heard the outer door reseal and both sirens die that he felt satisfied.

“What?!” he demanded in response as he turned around to confront the bewildered stares awaiting him.

A second later, Leia came rushing up to join them. Lando did a classic double-take at her before giving way so she could have a clear view. She looked completely alarmed, wearing nothing but a huge towel wrapped around her torso. Her bare skin glistened and her long hair dripped water, creating little puddles on the metal deck plate around her bare feet. “What’s going on?” she blurted out, still surveying the scene but beginning to deduce the situation. “What are you _doing_ , Han?”

“Nothing. I just took out the trash. What are you doing?”

Only then did she seem to realize he wasn’t the only spectacle at the moment and that all eyes had turned to her. Her cheeks tinted and she clutched the tucked edge of her towel a little tighter. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Chewbacca shook his head with a visible mixture of disgust and relief. «Next time you want to throw something out the airlock, give us some warning, you fool.»

Han threw up his hands in defense. “All right, all right!”

He watched the group break up and disappear, but Leia remained and continued to eye him as though he might be a danger to himself. “Are you sure you’re okay?” There was an all-new and very clear thread of concern in her voice.

“I’m okay.” Now that his anger had dissipated, he realized how bizarre his actions might have appeared. “I had to do that. It’s over now.”

She didn’t move for a long moment before nodding, as if she’d understood his momentary insanity. “Good. Why don’t you come and get cleaned up and then get some sleep? You must be exhausted.”

As he felt the last of his energy drain away, he admitted she was right. He gave a single nod and started back toward the bunk room. She fell in alongside him, her bare feet squelching on the smooth deck plates.

“You’re mopping that up later, Your Worship,” he teased in a low voice.

“Shut up.”

Once back in his cabin, he was reminded of where his thoughts had strayed, but Leia was already rummaging through a duffel bag on one of the spare bunks. He was pleasantly surprised when she pulled out one of his big shirts and a pair of black workout tights, but disappointed that his opportunity for that shared shower had passed. Then again, he was in no condition to finish anything he started anyway.

Han entered the fresher and closed the door behind him, then stripped. Once he stepped into the cascade of hot water, the sensation made him sigh and he put out a supporting hand to the shower wall and closed his bleary eyes, leaning into the pounding jets and letting the water wash away the sweat and grime and horror of Bespin and Tatooine. As the heat worked its way into his aching muscles, he reflected that he couldn’t fault Leia at all for doing whatever it took to enjoy this little pleasure; it was why he’d made the modifications to the fresher in the first place.

Despite his best efforts to hide it, he hurt all over. His eyes still throbbed, almost in time with his heartbeat, and not just his muscles but his very bones seemed to ache. The mild concussion and what felt like bruised ribs, injuries he’d received when the Cloud City guards had retaliated for his sucker punching Calrissian in that detaining cell, added to his discomfort. He felt like he’d been trampled by a herd of Nerfs then stuck in a deep-freeze unit to preserve the damage.

It wasn’t just the physical discomfort that bothered him, though. He wasn’t used to being fawned over, and all the focused attention had begun to rub against emotional nerves still exposed by everything that had happened since arriving at Cloud City. While the others had enjoyed the benefits of time to heal their wounds, his were still fresh. His guilt over failing to protect Leia and Chewbacca was a particular raw spot, and the fact they’d risked their lives again to rescue him hurt even more.

Worst of all was the fact that time had flowed past him like a river surging around and past a solitary rock in its path. Through no fault of their own, his friends had moved on with their lives, with the rest of the universe. To suddenly be dropped back into the middle of that stream left him feeling out of sync with those he cared most about.

Approaching the waterlogged threshold, Han finished washing up, then stepped out and grabbed a towel. He was still working it through his hair as he walked back out into the bunk room in search of some clean clothing. A gasped breath made him stop and look up.

Leia was still standing near his bunk, her dark eyes widening as she gave him the once-over. “Oh Goddess….”

Unable to help himself, Han gave her one of his best leers while wrapping the towel around his waist and tucking in the end to secure it. “That’s always nice to hear, Your Highness.”

She blinked at him, then managed one of her more classic blushes and waved a dismissive hand as she walked toward him. “Very funny, Han. I meant….” She reached out a hesitant hand to touch one of the ugly bruises peppering his frame.

He watched her fingers as they skimmed over his skin, a light dance of sensation that he welcomed despite the pain. When he flinched as she explored the tender dark purple splotch on his side, she stopped in alarm.

“A parting gift from Lando’s guards… or Vader’s… or Jabba’s. I lost track,” he murmured.

“You might have some broken ribs.”

“No, I don’t think so. It’ll be fine in a day or two. Don’t worry about it.”

“What about your head?”

“It’s still attached.”

Leia gave up being solicitous and planted both fists on her hips, not bothering to hide the mix of irritation and joy at having him back, obstinacy and all. “We’ll have a med droid check you out as soon as we arrive at Sullust.”

“Won’t be necessary,” he grunted as he stepped over to the lockers and opened one to pull out a pair of clean briefs.

“No, you should really get checked out just to—”

Turning back to face her, Han repeated, “Won’t be necessary.”

Her expression had grown cloudy, like a storm was threatening to roll in. “Are you really going to fight me on this?”

“Sweetheart, if _you_ want to play nurse with me, I’m happy to oblige because I like your bedside manner. But I’m not about to let some droid poke and prod me for the next three weeks, which is exactly what’ll happen.”

“I don’t think—”

“Oh no? How many recorded instances are there of humans surviving carbon freezing?”

Leia went silent, clearly evaluating his question and calculating where he was going with it.

“Go on. I know you’ve done your homework because you’re the one who told Chewie. How many?”

Although appearing reluctant to admit he’d correctly anticipated her, Leia answered in a muted tone: “Three…. One died hours later from complications. One was committed to an asylum because he….” She stopped.

“And the third?”

There was an even longer pause before she continued. “That would be you, Han.”

For a second, he thought her eyes had watered, but his sight was still blurry and she glanced away before he could confirm it. There was no self-satisfaction in outwitting her; it was a hell of an argument to win. He removed the towel and slid his briefs on. “I don’t want to become part of some science project to improve the technique. I just want to put it behind me. I won’t lie to you—I still hurt, but I’ll be better after some sleep. I promise.”

_I hope._

Leia studied him, no doubt guessing he was covering up a lot more, but she gave a little nod of capitulation and started for the door. “All right. I’ll leave you alone.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

The hesitation he detected as she turned back to look up at him was a surprise. From his point of view, they’d been sharing his bunk as recently as two nights ago, and yet here was another reminder of how much time had passed between them. With a sick sensation, Han realized six months was more than enough time for her to mull things over, to examine what had happened on that trip, and to have doubts or even regrets. She seemed different somehow from the woman he’d left on that steam-shrouded platform on Bespin, and it wasn’t just the new shadows and sharper angles he could spot in her beautiful features. It wasn’t something he could simply chalk up to exhaustion, either—he’d witnessed her being pushed to the very edge of endurance on more than one occasion and knew that look well. No, this seemed to go much deeper and darker, maybe in the same way Luke had changed, but his own exhaustion interfered as he struggled to pin it down.

Leia spared a last glance toward the bunk room hatch. Their shipmates would eventually need the fresher as well, and no doubt she was wondering just how much privacy they truly had with Lando aboard. But then she moved past him to stand by their bunk, bent down to draw back the covers, and met his eyes, waiting for him. “Into the bunk, Flyboy.”

_Now there’s a royal command I can’t resist._

He collapsed onto the mattress with a sigh, and it was all he could do to slide in and make room for her. “I bet you say that to all your patients.”

“Only the scruffy ones.”

Grinning and feeling very grateful that her sense of humor was still intact, he watched as Leia climbed in beside him, propped up a few pillows, and then leaned back, settling in alongside in a semi-prone position. She hadn’t undressed, but he could hardly complain as she drew closer and cradled his head against her chest. He felt her let out a long sigh then, and a moment later, her hand rose to touch his face once again, first the scar on his chin, then slowly down his jaw before sliding up and around to brush back the hair from his forehead.

“I missed you so much….”

Her whisper was as soft as her touch, and his eyes closed as he relished the soothing sensation. He regretted all the pain and loneliness she’d endured, and wished he could say he’d experienced the same pain of long separation, but it would be a lie. “Leia…. It was just a great big nothing. One second I was on that platform and the next…I was back in your arms.”

“That’s such a relief.” She tucked her chin down so she could press her lips to his forehead, then smoothed over the spot with her hand. “It’s all over now. Go to sleep.”

Han didn’t need to be told twice.


	2. Chapter 2

Sleeping through the rest of the hyperjump did wonders for Han’s energy reserves. So did having a very clingy princess wrapped around him throughout much of the night. At some point, he’d awoken to find her peacefully dreaming beside him, still semi-reclined against the bank of pillows, with a hand resting on his chest and her head bowed toward him, her long brunette hair flowing around them like a fragrant and silky blanket. Reassured that all was right, he’d drifted back to sleep.

On the other hand, he was disappointed to discover that soreness and occasional muscle spasms, reminiscent of some of his better hangovers, still nagged him when Leia gently shook him awake prior to their arrival in the Sullust system.

He was also dissatisfied to discover Leia already up and fully dressed. She was back in the nondescript Alliance uniform she’d typically worn around the base on Serricci, with her hair pulled back and braided into a pair of coils at the back of her head; none of it was very flattering and a far cry from the casually sexy makeshift wardrobe he’d grown accustomed to during the four weeks she’d lived with him aboard the _Falcon_. He’d been hoping for a proper reunion with her this morning before rejoining the others, but it looked like that would have to wait.

Her mention of breakfast, on the other hand, had caused his long-empty stomach to growl like a Wookiee, overruling any objection or reluctance to get up. Leia had watched him dress and he could tell she was analyzing his movements, wanting to ask how he felt—there was no masking how slow he was this morning—but she didn’t and he was happy to leave it at that.

After a quick meal, they’d assembled in the cockpit in preparation for their arrival. Reluctantly betraying his own efforts at hiding the state of his recovery, Han had magnanimously suggested Calrissian finish the trip by taking them out of hyperspace and flying them into the Alliance fleet gathering around the tiny planet of Sullust. Everyone had looked at Han as if he’d sprouted horns, but they refrained from saying anything.

Han was never a good passenger, so it was a challenge to hang back and watch while his friend resumed the controls, switched the _Falcon_ back to the sublight engines, then flew along at a safe distance from the fleet while awaiting security clearance. It was all he could do to keep from pacing like a caged Gundark within the tiny cockpit.

Instead, Han stared out in shock at the amassed size of the Alliance presence that greeted them. During their overnight internment in Jabba’s dungeon, Chewie had mentioned that the war had escalated in his absence, but it wasn’t until now, as Han gazed out the cockpit canopy, that he appreciated the truth and scale of that news. The sheer number and variety of ships, from capital Mon Calamari ships down to multiple flights of modern long-range skirmish fighters, drawn from seemingly every star system already under the Emperor’s control as well as a few merely threatened by the same fate, were proof that a momentous shift had occurred throughout the galaxy. It seemed as though many of the scattered cells and other resistance organizations had finally coalesced under one command, unified not only in purpose but toward one specific goal.

It was obvious that this time, High Command planned to take the fight to the Empire, and Han found that a sobering thought. In the time of his association with the Rebellion, aside from the occasional tactical raid, the Alliance leaders had wisely stuck to a defensive approach. It could be frustrating at times, but the small cells of resistance fighters would have been wiped out long ago if they’d gone on the offensive or even tried to stand their ground at any of the numerous abandoned bases. The battle on Hoth had been nothing more than a defensive holding action to stall Imperial forces while the bulk of the Rebel garrison fled. Considering their limited resources, this had always been the most effective survival stratagem; it was better to choose the time and place to strike, when you knew the odds would be in your favor.

But something had changed.

As impressive as the sight was, Han still knew deep down that this great fleet was puny compared to the entire might of the Empire—scattered though it was throughout the galaxy—that could be called to battle if the Rebels were about to abandon their hit-and-run strategy. Whatever the Rebels were planning, Han couldn’t help but wonder if it was more an act of desperation than any genuine shift in the balance of forces.

A tense silence filled the _Falcon_ ’s cockpit until they received clearance to approach and were assigned a docking berth within an internal docking bay of a gigantic Mon Calamari cruiser that was serving as the fleet flagship. Lando and Chewie took the _Falcon_ in and within minutes, they were docked and the engines shut down. There was no fanfare as they disembarked, and they remained standing in a little group at the base of the boarding ramp, as if not sure where to go from here.

Leia finally broke the impasse as she said, “I should report in. Will you be okay?” She glanced around at all of them, but her gaze settled on Han.

He winked back. “Go on, we’ll be fine. It’s not like we’re new recruits or anything.”

Her expression brightened for just a moment before she nodded. “Good. Stay out of trouble. I’ll see you later.”

“Me? Trouble?”

She hesitated for a second, and then heedless of their audience, she stood on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss before turning and heading for the nearest exit, with Threepio trailing behind her.

Han forgot everything else as he watched her walk away. It was funny how a brush with death could make a guy appreciate little things, like the sway of her hips. Then it occurred to him that as swift as her kiss had been, it was a public demonstration that would surely start the rumor mills running overtime. Ever since she’d climbed into his bunk only days after their departure from Hoth, he’d wondered how she might handle their relationship after their return. This little maneuver of hers, however, just promised an interesting future. His smile widened.

“Well,” Lando broke into the lingering silence, appearing both amused and uncomfortable. “Looks like I’ll need to find a new job.”

Han pulled his attention back to his remaining companions and looked Lando up and down. “You need a ride somewhere? It’s the least I can do. We can fly you to wherever—”

“You know what?” Lando interrupted him. “Let me think on that. Right now I’m just going for a walk. I’ll get back to you.”

“Sure, Buddy.”

With an entirely different set of thoughts to occupy his mind now, Han watched Calrissian turn away and follow the princess’s path toward the same blast doors. He supposed Lando would want to be dropped off somewhere that promised a good sabacc game at the very least; he’d always been a gambler first and foremost. Han’s unanticipated and unfortunate arrival on Bespin had cost Lando the mining operation, but there were always new opportunities for a resourceful and lucky man like him.

“Just like old times, huh?” Han murmured as he peered around at the bustling flight techs and ships around them before glancing back up at his longtime partner and best friend.

_Only it isn’t. Not at all._

Chewbacca must have been thinking the same thing as he shrugged his massive shoulders and said, «I guess that depends on what we do now.»

Han didn’t reply. Hands on his hips, he just stood there trying to pin down why things still felt out of place. Much as he’d chafed at all the attention since his release from carbonite, for one irrational moment, he felt like he’d just been abandoned. It was ridiculous.

«What _are_ we going to do now?» the Wookiee prodded.

“I don’t know, Chewie.”

«How are you feeling?»

Han debated not answering, but then gave his own shrug; he knew that lying to his perceptive partner was a waste of time. “My eyes are better. I’m bruised up and I’m sore, but it’s no big deal.”

«I don’t think we should do anything until you’re fully recovered. You should go to the medical ward.»

“Look, don’t you start. I’m getting enough of that from her.”

«All right. Then what do you propose we do next?»

Back to where they’d started, Han frowned and looked away to watch a couple of mech techs, dressed in khaki coveralls, as they unloaded supplies from a smaller freighter nearby onto a hover trolley.

The problem was that what he deeply desired didn’t mesh with the truth of their situation. Just because the deathmark on him was finally gone didn’t change the fact that a bounty still remained on the woman he loved deeply, and that she was embroiled in a lopsided war that was far from over. More to the point, mundane details like careers and logistics had played no role in his fantasies or their month spent together on the way to Bespin. It was inevitable that reality would come crashing back, forcing him to face facts and find a compromise he could live with.

«Well, maybe we should start with the obvious. Do you still want to leave?»

Han’s head snapped around. That option genuinely hadn’t occurred to him. Much as he’d bitched in the past about his situation with these idealistic freedom fighters, most of that had been fueled by bounty hunters and his frustration over the mixed signals from Leia. Jabba’s subsequent death and her coming around had neatly resolved both complaints.

“Nah, I don’t want to leave, Pal. What about you?”

Han had known this Wookiee long enough to interpret the subtle cues of body language that others missed; he recognized sincerity in Chewie’s blue eyes.

«I want to stay and help. I always have. Too many of my people, my family, are still slaves. This is the only way I can change that. But if you would rather—»

“No, you’re right. We’re in this for the long haul.”

Chewie nodded, his hairy countenance remaining serious as he clarified his stance. «Then I want to make it official. I want to join up.»

That caught Han off guard. He’d just assumed they would continue as they’d always been, independent merchant spacers who happened to smuggle for the Alliance. Taking the oath and a rank had never been a real consideration for him, but it was clear now that his partner harbored stronger feelings on the matter.

Did he have any excuse not to do the same? He cared about the cause—if he’d lacked a personal reason before, his recent treatment at the hands of Darth Vader had given him new motivation. But even more, he cared about the other people involved, and in particular, one of its most dedicated and visible members. In any case, his long association with the Rebellion had made whether or not he was a sworn member nothing more than semantics as far as the Empire was concerned.

_You already know how Leia feels about this. There’s no debate there._

That thought was enough to make the corner of his mouth twitch upward.

_Better make sure a med tech is nearby. She’s in for a shock._

“All right, Chewie. We’ll make it official.”

The Wookiee visibly relaxed, as if he’d worried Han might have a different reaction. Han supposed Chewie had a legitimate reason to be concerned. Hell, those were odds even Lando wouldn’t have gambled on.


	3. Chapter 3

The day seemed to crawl by as Han and Chewie busied themselves conducting a thorough top-to-bottom inspection of the _Falcon_. The work helped distract Han from the fact that he hadn’t caught a glimpse of Leia since her departure that morning. Prior to their escape from Hoth, this would not have struck him as out of the ordinary—she’d always submerged herself in her work and it could be hours between Princess sightings unless she was angry with him, but after several weeks of enjoying her undivided attention, this sudden and prolonged disappearance left him listless and lonely. It felt a bit like having a single dark cloud drift by to block the rays of an otherwise bright summer sun.

_Buddy, she’s only gone half a day and you’re already complaining? Compared to what she just went through? You need a hobby!_

But that was the other trouble. Han’s list of the items on the _Falcon_ that needed immediate attention was suddenly nonexistent, and even his wish list of nonessential modifications was much shorter. All those weeks of busy work on the way to Bespin, followed by the repairs Calrissian’s competent mech team had completed during that long day on Cloud City, combined with the six months of odd jobs Chewbacca had done of his own initiative while waiting on Tatooine for a signal from Lando, had left very little for them to do now other than cosmetic overhauls and major systems upgrades, none of which he could justify or afford right now. In addition, many of the fix-it jobs that had occupied his time in the past were the direct result of run-ins with TIE fighters and other hazards while on missions, but the ship hadn’t seen heavy action since escaping the Imperial fleet around Bespin. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found himself with nothing to do, but that was the case today and it left him too much time to mull over his current situation.

One item that particularly occupied his mind was whether Leia would move into living quarters here aboard the flagship. For some reason, he’d just figured that she would stay with him aboard the _Falcon_ , but now he realized, with a growing sense of discontent, that there was no reason to assume she would or could make such a blatant and potentially controversial move. Happy as they’d seemed together on the way to Bespin, there had been no formal commitment or even talk about what would happen afterward; he’d meant it when he’d told her that he would return if possible, but in truth, he hadn’t expected a happy ending following his confrontation with the Hutt. And maybe she hadn’t either. In any case, none of that mattered since it wouldn’t be practical for her to reside permanently on the _Falcon_ once they resumed smuggling missions. She would have to keep her own residence, and for all he knew, she might prefer it that way.

Unhappy with where this line of thought had gone, Han meandered around the deck, first to satisfy his curiosity as he poked his head into the eclectic range of spacecraft sharing the docking bay, and then to exchange chitchat and the occasional shoptalk with flight crew members or technicians. In the past, he’d tended to keep to himself and leave the others around base to their work, but today he suddenly felt downright gregarious, even with the many new faces.

It was only when Han headed back toward his own ship that he realized who it was he’d been subconsciously looking for: Luke Skywalker. Their friendship had been forged aboard the _Death Star_ , and ever since then, they’d hung around together whenever he and Chewie weren’t out on a mission. But Luke was gone, and even he hadn’t known when he might return. After witnessing Skywalker in action back on Tatooine, there was no denying that things would never be the same. In the days of the Old Republic, Jedi knights had worked jointly with the military whenever necessary, but otherwise, they’d acted as lone agents. Luke would have to resign his command of Rogue Squadron, if he hadn’t already, so he could follow the path he’d started the day he’d met that old wizard Kenobi.

_It figures the Kid has to leave just when I’m finally ready to sign up._

Han arrived back at the _Falcon_ only to discover that Chewie had also wandered off, probably in search of the canteen. Loitering under the shadow of his ship’s hull once again, Han resumed watching the busy mechanics and other personnel go about their duties, feeling mystified by his unfamiliar sense of uselessness. Not all that long ago, he might have reclined on the upslope of his ship’s boarding ramp, mumbling smug comments about suicidal idealists and lost causes, but now all he felt was a sense of being left out—of still being left behind while the rest of the universe continued moving around him.

Restless, Han made a decision and headed for the blast doors. Having nothing else to do, he could strike out on another expedition, this time in hopes of spotting the princess. It was a sport he’d enjoyed for over a year; she’d been wily prey, easily spooked and potentially dangerous when cornered, but always a pleasure to pursue, all the more so now.

He stopped short in happy surprise, however, when he spotted General Carlist Rieekan enter the bay and head toward him. The last time Han had seen the older man, one of Leia’s fellow Alderaani survivors, it had been amidst the controlled chaos of Echo Base, when the general had informed Han of the princess’s stubborn and suicidal decision to remain in the Command Center. After that, they’d rushed off in opposite directions, not to see one another again until now. Whether or not the general had intended to play matchmaker, for better or worse, his fateful decision had set Han and Leia on the path that had led them to today.

“General!” Han called out, greeting the man with a broad smile and proffered hand.

“Hello, Captain Solo. I’m glad to see you’re fit,” Rieekan exclaimed, accepting Han’s hand and giving it a solid shake. “Princess Leia’s told me that the rescue went well. It’s good to have you back.”

_Well, that explains where she’s been for at least part of today._

“Thank you, sir. Glad to be back. Looks like I’m just in time, huh?”

Rieekan’s thick gray eyebrows quirked up, and he glanced around them with a nod. “Yes, as a matter of fact, you are. That’s part of why I’ve come to see you. And of course to welcome you back,” he added with a friendly pat on Han’s upper arm.

“Oh yeah? That sounds ominous,” Han responded only half in jest, feeling some of his enthusiasm fade into wariness.

He’d always enjoyed a somewhat candid relationship with Rieekan, often talking about topics like military history and the state of the war in general, but he’d remained circumspect in revealing his own past, something Rieekan had always respected; many within the Rebellion had arrived with questionable backgrounds. Even so, Han must have left a good impression on the general because regular offers of a rank had soon followed.

More to the point, Han was also aware of the general’s long and almost paternal relationship with the princess. Although they’d deliberately skirted around the topic of Leia, this fact had never been far from Han’s mind. As his own relationship with Leia had evolved, so had Han’s impression that the general was vetting him, particularly once rumors of romance between himself and Leia began to fly after that impromptu Majority party while they were all still based on Serricci. Following the mission to Ord Mantell and the very public exchanges that had resulted, Han had assumed it was only a matter of time before the general would get right to the point and ask about the exact nature of Han’s relationship with Leia, and yet no questions had ever come. But maybe today, with his Death Mark gone and the turbulent arguments between himself and Leia a thing of the past, the time was right. Hell, she’d done the unthinkable and left the Rebellion—no matter how briefly—to come rescue him!

_Just how much did Leia tell him in that debriefing?_

Feeling the need for some privacy, Han jerked his head and a thumb toward the entrance to his ship. “Come on inside so we can sit and talk.”

Rieekan agreed, and Han led them up the ramp and into the central hold of the _Falcon_ , where he pointed toward the curved bench wrapped around the deactivated holochess table.

“Have a seat, General. Want a drink? I’ve got some Corellian whiskey that hasn’t been aired in over half a year. I’ll admit, I could use a little right now.” Han rarely drank without occasion, but this seemed like the perfect time to start.

Rieekan hesitated—it was against regulations—but then he gave a short nod. “I’d hate to see you drink alone. Just one, though. My day isn’t over yet.”

Han stepped into the tiny galley adjoining the main hold and grabbed a pair of short tumblers, then stopped at a storage locker to pull out a green bottle still three-quarters full of dark liquor. He set the glasses down, screwed off the bottle cap, and poured enough for two good swallows into each glass. As he recapped the bottle and set it to the side, he gingerly slid into the opposite end of the bench.

Rieekan held his glass out and waited for Han to mirror him in a toast. “To your health and future,” he said.

Han met the older man’s sky-blue eyes and eased into a grateful smile. “And to yours.” He finished half his glass and watched Rieekan do the same.

“Ahh, that’s very good,” Carlist murmured in appreciation. “Your people really know what they’re doing when it comes to this.”

“Thanks. Wish I could take the credit, but all I know is what to do with it.”

Rieekan chuckled and leaned back against the cushioned backrest. “Well, I suppose I should get right to the point, Solo. I’d like to know your intentions.”

_Strap yourself in because here we go!_

“Look, you can ask Leia yourself. Everything was completely consensual.”

Rieekan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and stayed there as amusement washed across his face before his usual unflappable look returned to his craggy features. “While that news does not surprise me, it wasn’t what I came to talk with you about….”

Realizing his blunder, Han felt a blush creep up from beneath his shirt collar, something he hadn’t experienced since his youth. He cleared his throat then tossed back the rest of his drink, barely noticing the burn this time as it went down his throat. “Oh,” he gasped.

“But since you brought it up, if you’d rather we started there…?” Rieekan continued in a lighter tone before trailing off, providing him an opportunity to still save face. Han jumped at it.

“You mean about what I plan to do now that I’m finally a free agent?”

“Yes.”

Han sighed, his eyes dropping to look at his empty glass, finding this topic only a little less awkward. “I’ve barely had time to think that far ahead.”

“I can only imagine how hard it must be catching up. From what the princess has told me, time stopped for you while you were in carbonite. I suppose that’s both a blessing and a curse.”

Han glanced up at the mention of Leia, again wondering how much she’d told the general. The only other long-term survivor of carbon freezing had gone insane from sensory deprivation due to a glitch in the process, and that man had only been encased for two days. But being completely out of sync with the rest of the universe wasn’t exactly a piece of jeelcake, either.

“I was lucky,” Han mumbled.

“Indeed,” Rieekan nodded in quiet agreement. “Now that your situation has changed, I thought this might be a good time to talk about a commission once again. Before you make up your mind, I hope you’ll reconsider my standing offer.”

This was something else Han had anticipated—the matter of his accepting a leadership role within the Alliance. It had been a recurring topic between them since Han’s impromptu handling of part of the evacuation of the tiny rebel outpost on Findior. Most in High Command had been alarmed by Han’s issuing orders and making decisions without going through the proper channels, but Rieekan’s reaction had been the exact opposite; he’d been impressed and grateful for Han’s demonstrated initiative and skill. In hopes of smoothing any ruffled feathers on both sides, Rieekan had offered to make Han a de facto commander. Much as Han was secretly flattered to know that at least one member in High Command had appreciated the situation and his efforts, he’d decided to turn down the offer, citing his problem with Jabba and his preference to stay uncommitted.

Han frowned down at the checkered tabletop. His court martial and expulsion from the Imperial Academy over a decade before, and then the almost irrational response from High Command after Findior, had both left him convinced that he was better off avoiding the hierarchy all together. It had made his rejection of Rieekan’s offers that much easier. But his decision with Chewie this morning had changed the game.

“Chewie and I want to stay and help out. We’re ready to make it official. As for the rest…” Han paused, trying to find the most diplomatic way to say it. “I still think I can do more good by sticking to what I’ve been doing. I figure you still need fast ships to smuggle supplies and agents around.”

“We do,” Rieekan conceded with only a hint of disappointment showing. “You’ve both been valuable assets and we’re glad to have you stay. I’ll make the arrangements to swear you both in. The clearance process was completed after you joined us at Yavin, so it’s just a matter of paperwork to make it formal.”

Rieekan took a long moment to study Han before adding in a more frank tone, “Considering the circumstances now, I figure it’s time you knew this. The princess has been vouching for you to High Command ever since you helped rescue her from the _Death Star_. She made sure you got that security clearance. She believed in you, even when no one else would, and you proved her right.”

Han was speechless by this revelation. Considering how Leia had criticized him in the past, he’d become convinced of the exact opposite. But now her behavior suddenly made sense; Leia had always been tenacious in pointing out his leadership abilities to him, and likewise demonstrably disappointed whenever he turned down Rieekan’s offer of rank, as if each rejection were a personal insult. It also explained why Rieekan had so quickly warmed up to him while they were still licking their wounds on Serricci following the near-disastrous battle above Yavin IV—it was Rieekan who’d been influenced by Leia and not the other way around.

“I had no idea,” Han said, mulling over the unfamiliar mix of humility and appreciation he felt.

“I didn’t think so. I suppose she has her reasons for not making that information public….”

Rieekan gave another of his enigmatic smiles that left Han wondering if he should read between the lines, and then he changed topics again. “Now, there’s one last thing I need to talk with you about, but this time I just need your opinion. The princess was willing to vouch for your friend Calrissian so he could come aboard the medical frigate when they returned from Bespin. However, Calrissian’s now volunteered for a position within the Alliance. He’s given personal reasons for wanting to help out, and he says he’s a pretty good pilot. I have to assume there’s some truth in the claim if you’ve allowed him to fly your ship.”

Han couldn’t have been more stunned if Rieekan had suddenly leveled a blaster at him and asked for his personal credit chip.

_Lando? Volunteered?!_

The general continued. “I’ve come to you as a character witness. Do you believe Calrissian to be a dedicated and reliable person who would take his duties seriously?”

Still in shock, Han had to think before answering as he reconciled past experiences with more recent ones. “I think so. Back on Bespin, he did what he felt he had to do to protect his people. When he realized the situation was impossible, he staged an ambush, warned the city residents to evacuate, and did what he could to get Leia, Chewie, and Luke out of there.” Han shrugged, as if there wasn’t really any more to say. “It was my fault he was put in that tight spot in the first place, but he made the best of a bad situation.”

Rieekan nodded, appearing satisfied. “I’m pleased to hear that. Then it’s just a matter of finding the right role for him. Any recommendations?”

Again caught on the spot, Han had to consider the question. Then a memory came to mind and he nodded, tapping his index finger on the tabletop for emphasis. “Do a little research on the Battle of Taanab. That’ll probably tell you all you need to know.”

“Taanab? Really?” Looking thoroughly intrigued now, Rieekan grinned, then raised his glass to finish off his own drink. After letting out an appreciative sigh, he moved to get up. “I’ll let you go now. Thank you for the excuse to enjoy your private stores. You’ve got excellent taste.”

“Wait a second, General. About….”

Han stopped, unsure of where he was going with this, but realizing he should probably say something after all. Rieekan settled back onto the bench, giving him an expectant look, and Han was half-tempted to reach for the bottle again.

“Has it been done before?” he finally asked.

When Rieekan’s expression grew puzzled, Han fumbled for a better way to express his budding idea. All the crazy, tenuous fantasies of a life together with Leia—thoughts he’d toyed with and dismissed while on their long journey—now seemed not so far-fetched anymore, at least not from his point of view. He hadn’t voiced them to her, not even in their most intimate moments, because he hadn’t wanted to give either of them false hope. But now, after talking with this man, someone who’d witnessed her previous life and knew her better than anyone still alive, Han was reminded of the potential obstacle her royal heritage could pose. He’d had a little familiarity with Alderaani culture—it had been a Core world, after all—but royalty was always a different beast.

“I mean, she’s a princess. Is there any chance—I mean, I’m not exactly royalty….”

Rieekan’s features softened, and Han desperately hoped the man was getting the gist of his tongue-tied query.

“I’ve known the princess a long time, Solo. I probably don’t need to tell you this, but if there’s one thing you can be sure of, it’s that she won’t be satisfied letting others dictate her course.” Rieekan got to his feet and reached out to pat Han on the shoulder, as if wishing him all the luck in the universe. “Why don’t you just ask her?”

 _Easier said than done_ , Han thought as he processed the suggestion and balanced his empty glass on its bottom rim, letting it rock back and forth beneath his fingers. Then he grew still. _Was that an endorsement?!_

Watching as the general turned and headed for the lowered ramp, Han acted on another impulse and called out once again to stop Rieekan. “Is there anything I should know?”

His thoughts were along the lines of unanticipated legal complications and royal strictures and Kest knew what other kinds of unforeseen cultural hurdles, but Rieekan’s broad smile caught Han up short.

“She likes botanical gardens.”

The answer came from so far out of sensor range that Han just stared as the general disappeared, leaving him alone with his confused thoughts.

“Botanical gardens…?”


	4. Chapter 4

As Han wandered through the maze of white corridors within the fleet flagship, he tried to work through the equally twisting and turning series of events happening around him. Just when he’d begun to feel as though he were back on stable ground, his world had tipped at a steep angle once more, sending everything careening into a tangled heap at the bottom, where it remained to be sorted out.

Just when he and Chewie were about to legitimately join this group of maniacs, Lando—a man who’d almost never demonstrated any sort of selfless impulse—had already beaten them to the punch and signed up. Leia had been risking her own reputation on Han’s behalf ever since the _Death Star_ nearly two years ago, all in spite of his own unknowing attempts to sabotage her gamble. Rieekan had unofficially sanctioned the idea of Han’s proposing to Leia. And perhaps most incongruous of all, he’d discovered that the woman he thought he’d known—the one who never seemed to stop moving, who acted as much at ease wielding a blaster as at home in a boardroom—liked botanical gardens?

_Maybe you’ve been unfrozen and dumped into some alternate universe by mistake. Hell, maybe you’re still in carbonite and all this is just one big—_

“Captain Solo! Captain Solo! There you are!”

Han groaned and slowly turned on his booted heel toward the urgent, pompous hail.

_Just my luck Threepio’s still a part of either of those scenarios._

“I’ve been searching everywhere for you,” Threepio went on as he minced toward Solo in a stiff quickstep. “You’ve been invited to join the other freighter pilots and smugglers in today’s Acquisitions meeting. If you would, please, sir. The meeting will be starting in less than seventeen minutes in conference room fourteen on level two.”

“Fourteen on level two,” Han repeated halfheartedly.

On the one hand, he was glad to be called to the meeting; these were standard assemblies that he’d participated in for as long as he’d been working for the Rebellion and it meant some things were returning to normal. And because those meetings were always headed by Princess Leia, it meant he’d finally see her after what had felt like an intolerably long day. On the other hand, sending Threepio out to track him down was the sort of tactic she’d used to employ after they’d had an argument and she’d wanted to avoid or irritate him. Why hadn’t she personally come to invite him this time? It might have been the perfect opportunity for a moment together.

With a frown at that question, Han glanced around to get his bearings then headed back toward the bank of turbo lifts he’d passed earlier. Within minutes, he was walking along the second level deck, headed in the direction the markers indicated for the cluster of conference rooms. He arrived to find a smallish room mostly taken up by a long table in the center and surrounded by high-backed chairs. Half the seats were occupied but his attention went first to Leia, who was seated to one side at the far end of the table. Their eyes met and for a fleeting moment, he saw bright joy in her expression before she resumed a serious face and looked back down at her datapad, back to the business at hand.

As Han moved into the room, he recognized a few of the other attendees, who likewise greeted him with quick smiles, handshakes, and slaps on the back. Earlier, he’d wondered if news of what had happened to him was common knowledge, but the greetings he garnered now answered that question; none of them had any illusions about the dangers of this job, and for Han to have defied the odds and returned made him lucky in their eyes.

There was an empty seat at the head of the table adjacent to Leia, but it appeared to be reserved; the rest of the chairs near her were already occupied, so Han headed for the closest across from her. As he got comfortable, his eyes kept going back to her, hoping to get her attention, but she remained busy with writing on her datapad, no doubt getting her notes together before starting the meeting. He tried to ignore his budding sense of disappointment; in past meetings, she’d gone out of her way to ignore him, but he’d hoped for a different reaction this time. Was she overcompensating?

_Did you really think she’d abandon her work ethic just because she’s slept with you? No wonder she thinks your ego is huge._

He snorted aloud at that thought and then tensed and glanced around in case anyone had noticed; there was still enough chatter and movement going on in the room to cover up his outburst and he relaxed once more.

Still, it was an interesting exercise, trying to reconcile his old impressions of the usual tightly wound Princess Leia with recent memories now burned into his brain from their little detour to Bespin. This current cool facade contrasted sharply with the vivid images of her naked below him and above him, of her pale skin flushed in heat as those now pursed lips parted to call out his name as she abandoned that rigid control and surrendered to the passion he’d awakened within her.

At that moment, as if sensing the erotic turn his thoughts had taken, Leia looked up from her datapad to meet his intense gaze, and then her dark eyes flicked around the room before coming back to rest on him.

Over those weeks spent trapped together aboard the _Falcon_ , they’d grown fluent in one another’s body language. Now, in this fleeting moment as Han tried to read her expression, he recognized her affection, but there was something else he couldn’t translate. She seemed troubled, her look growing cloudier than a rainy day on Serricci. Was he just misinterpreting? Then he reminded himself that although it felt little more than a couple of days since the last time they’d been intimate, half a year had passed for her.

_Stop getting worked up over nothing. You’re both rusty. Give it time._

He sent his most confident grin, followed by a wink. Before he could gauge her reaction or do any more, they were interrupted as a latecomer entered the room and closed the conference room door behind him. He was a tall young man, dressed in Alliance command uniform with the insignia of a lieutenant, and he carried a datapad tucked beneath an arm. The officer walked the length of the table before coming to a stop at the head beside Leia. Han didn’t recognize him, but the rest of the attendees grew silent as the man set his pad down on the tabletop and appeared to take a quick mental roll call of the room.

“Now that everybody’s here, we’ll get started,” the man spoke in a clear, confident voice. “If you don’t know me already, my name is Lieutenant Krate. I’ve been designated the new quartermaster for this cell of the Alliance. Princess Leia is here today to assist me and may continue in that function, but from now on, I’ll be your main contact. All assignments, requisitions, repair orders, and any other business will go directly through me.”

Han felt as if somebody had kicked the chair out from under him. Unable to believe what he was hearing, his first reaction was to look back to Leia, but her gaze was locked on her datapad. The only trace of emotion on the stony mask of her face were the two red strokes of color on her cheeks that one might have mistaken for the sloppy application of rouge but that he recognized instantly as humiliation.

Han fought back an irrational urge to jump to his feet and demand an explanation; it wouldn’t do any good to complain here since he knew there was nobody else in attendance with enough authority to answer questions or change anything anyway. The only result from making a scene now would be having everyone question his mental stability. Instead, as Lieutenant Krate launched the meeting in earnest, Han stayed glued to his chair as his head filled with all the possible scenarios of what might have happened, while his bafflement evolved into irritation and then into anger on her behalf as the events of the day fell into place.

No wonder Leia had disappeared for so long. Had there been some disagreement behind the scenes and she’d resigned out of frustration? Han couldn’t imagine her just quitting in a fit of pique, not after everything she’d done to make this job her own. That left the more obvious answer—that High Command had decided to replace her for some reason. Was it humiliation that had kept her hidden away all day?

Angry all over again, he resisted the temptation to storm out, hunt down General Rieekan, and demand an explanation for what had clearly been a boneheaded change in staff.

Han’s gaze shifted from Leia to the polished tabletop and he applied all his willpower toward making time move faster, with no success; if anything, it seemed to slow to the point it felt unendurable. How could time torture him like this?! How could it make six months seem nothing more than seconds and yet make an hour last an eternity? He wanted to move, to strike something, to demand answers, and yet he sat trapped in a conference room purgatory.

Each time he glanced up toward Leia, he wished for her to meet his eyes and reassure him that things were under control and he was overreacting, that she was okay and things would work out for the best, and maybe this had even been her idea from the start. But she didn’t. Sometimes her stylus would zigzag as she wrote notes, but mostly she just stared at her screen, lost in her own thoughts.

“Captain Solo?”

Han started in his chair, only then realizing all eyes were focused on him in silent expectation. Even Leia was looking at him in sudden curiosity and concern, clearly wondering why he hadn’t responded. He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “Yes, sir?”

“I understand you’ve only just returned from….” Lieutenant Krate stalled for a moment, as if at a loss as to how to describe his understanding of Han’s prolonged absence. Then he plowed ahead, saying, “I’ve read your records and briefs on prior missions. We can wait with your next assignment if you’re not quite ready yet.”

The very idea of blasting off right now on some obscure and likely dangerous smuggling run for what would be days if not weeks made Han scowl, but he recovered fast as his gaze dropped briefly back to Leia. “Can I get back to you on that in a day or two?”

The lieutenant nodded with an agreeable smile. “Of course. Our next meeting will be in three days. You can update me then. Welcome back.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As the meeting shifted away from him, Han’s attention returned to Leia, whom he was glad to see hadn’t looked away. He tipped his head a little and raised an eyebrow to send her a silent question. She gave a little sigh, her jaw visibly clenching as her eyes closed for a moment, then she made a subtle shake of her head, but he couldn’t decide if that meant she didn’t want to talk about it or if it didn’t matter anyway. Then her gaze dropped back down to her datapad and she resumed writing, leaving Han feeling anything but satisfied.

His scowl grew as the topic of the meeting shifted again and the lieutenant began listing specific supplies of which the Alliance was in desperate need. Knowing how resourceful spacers could be, this was a regular exercise Leia had started nearly two years ago, and Krate was taking her lead; she’d acknowledged how they might stumble across unanticipated opportunities to acquire such items in their underground activities, or at the very least might know someone would could, and it was just the sort of broadminded and proactive thinking Han had always liked about the princess. She’d never shown the sort of active distaste the majority of others within the Alliance command displayed when it came to associating with his kind, something Han had liked to attribute to her personal feelings for him.

There was movement around the table as the other attendees began rising from their seats, and Han realized the meeting was finally over. His relief was brief. His first instinct was to talk to Leia, but she was already up out of her seat and looking like she wanted nothing more than to bolt for the exit. He rose to his feet, prepared to push his way through the small crowd to follow her, but was pleased when she glanced back toward him and then hung back and waited as the others filed out of the room, leaving them alone. She watched as he made his way around the end of the table and stopped in front of her.

“Hi,” Han said simply, hoping she would breach the obvious topic first.

For a moment, Leia looked like she wasn’t sure what to say back, as if she were suddenly uncomfortable with him, but then her eyes settled on his. “Hi.”

Under normal circumstances Han would have avoided venturing into this sort of clearly marked emotional minefield like he would have avoided the Deltorian Plague. Today, he couldn’t help himself. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Stunned by her refusal, he was at a loss for words. He’d thought they’d progressed past this stage. Why was she reverting back to refusing to confide in him?

His inclination was to keep pressing her, but a newer instinct whispered at him to hold back; more often than not, their past arguments had begun because he’d pushed too hard, and that was the last thing he wanted to inflict on her right now. “Look, the day’s almost over and I’m willing to bet you skipped lunch. Come back to the _Falcon_ and I’ll make a proper dinner.”

_And then maybe you’ll relax enough to tell me what the hell’s going on._

Leia released another sigh, and in that instant, her shields dropped just long enough for him to glimpse genuine longing in her expression, but then she shook her head. “I can’t, there’s too much….” She stopped, perhaps reconsidering her words upon seeing his negative reaction, and then she started over. “I’ll try to be there as soon as I can.”

Han was unsatisfied with such a noncommittal compromise but clueless as to how to handle the situation. Despite the massive leap forward their relationship had taken all those months before, and whatever diminished duties she might have now, was this what it was going to be like for them? Had he been deluding himself all this time in thinking she wanted the same things he did?

Acting on an impulse, he bowed forward to kiss her, damning propriety and circumstances and everything else that had gotten between them since leaving Tatooine. He pulled her close as their lips met and she seemed to relinquish that tightfisted control at last, melting into his embrace, matching his sudden ardor. It felt like forever since the last time they’d kissed like this and he gripped her tighter, giving in to that desperate need he’d been forced to rein in all day.

“Your Highness, I think—Oh! I’m sorry.”

Leia broke away, her hands on Han’s chest to push him back as they belatedly realized they were no longer alone. Frustration and anger swept over Han as he turned to see Lieutenant Krate standing in the doorway. The lieutenant averted his eyes, visibly embarrassed, but he didn’t make a move to retreat. Realizing the moment was lost, Han glanced back to Leia.

“Han…I have to go. I’ll see you later. I promise.”

With a silent, reluctant nod, Han watched her hurry out through the door. At least Lieutenant Krate had the decency to send him a chagrined grin and shrug, an informal apology. “Captain,” he said in farewell, and turned to follow her into the hallway and out of sight.

Left standing alone, Han stared after them.

“Kreth,” he said. The curse felt grossly inadequate.


	5. Chapter 5

Playing sabacc with Chewie wasn’t how Han had hoped to spend the evening, but he found the familiar activity with his old friend and partner comforting. However, Chewie was as perceptive as usual and guessed correctly at the source of Han’s distraction by speculating where the princess could be and why she’d missed dinner. Not in the mood to explore the reasons, Han gave up the uncomfortable conversation and retired to his cabin.

Maybe she’d decided to stay in her own quarters tonight after all. Considering what he’d witnessed hours before in the Acquisitions meeting, he wasn’t all that surprised by her continued absence, although it bothered him deeply to think it was shame that made her avoid him.

And if he were to be brutally honest with himself, he just missed her. So far, their whole post-Jabba relationship thing was off to a very shaky start and he couldn’t tell whether he was blowing events and emotions out of proportion or if this was a hopeless cause.

After a long shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist, Han paused in the cramped room and leaned against the tiny wash basin to study his reflection in the mirror above it. When had those lines appeared at the corners of his eyes? He’d never noticed those before. Maybe his interval in carbonite hadn’t entirely stopped time after all; maybe it had accelerated things.

Han ran his fingers through his still-damp hair, but it was longer than usual and continued to do its own thing. Along with his yellowing bruises, his shaggy hair was a visible souvenir from their not-so-scenic tour through the Anoat system. While Leia possessed the necessary skills to deal with her own long tresses, she hadn’t attempted to cut his hair during their trip. Add to it the day’s growth of beard he was sporting now and he was definitely looking on the scruffy side.

_She likes you that way._

The thought brought a brief, wistful smile to his face. What she might find attractive and what most would consider marrying material for a princess was no doubt a universe apart. Just because Rieekan seemed to approve of their match didn’t mean any of his other obstacles were cleared. Hell, he’d barely started.

_Sort of a moot point if you’ll never see her long enough to get the chance to ask._

Han sucked in a deep breath and straightened his posture, working at summoning up some of that old self-confidence that had always come so easily in the past.

_Only one day back and you’re a wreck. No wonder they’re staring at you like some science experiment._

He left the fresher, grabbed his personal datapad from his locker, and headed for his bunk with the intention of catching up on recent Core Worlds events, then gave up in disgust within minutes when his eyes still refused to stay focused long enough for comfortable reading. Stowing the reader away in the drawer beneath his bunk, he doused the lights until just the red-tinged night-vision light from the unoccupied fresher lit the cabin. Lying back, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come, but that seemed another bit of wishful thinking.

There were tectonic shifts happening within the Alliance; even he could see that. It wasn’t just the sheer numbers assembled now and it wasn’t just the shake-up in personnel. General Rieekan had admitted something major was afoot, although he hadn’t elaborated, no doubt because it was classified. Even so, Han was savvy enough to recognize a mobilization when he saw it. Whatever was going to happen, it would be soon and decisive, one way or the other.

It was very likely that Leia knew what was happening; it helped explain her disappearing act, as well as her reluctance to talk.

Han opened his eyes and stared into the dark shadows of the bunk alcove overhead.

He knew a bit about humiliation, having been stripped of duties back in his early years in the Academy. While his experience had been the predictable result of his actions, that hadn’t lessened the public dishonor he’d endured. For Leia, this change had to be devastating, and that thought made his gut twist.

Rolling onto his side to face the bulkhead, Han closed his eyes again, trying to clear his mind of the swirling thoughts and doubts. What he probably needed was another good night’s sleep, and then everything would be clear in the morning.

He’d almost succeeded in falling asleep when the door to the bunk room slid open, followed moments later by the room going completely dark but for the tiny red indicator light above the door control panel as the fresher door closed, cutting off the remaining light. He dismissed it as Chewie making one last run for the night, but when the sound of the fresher door reopening wasn’t followed by the cabin door, Han realized it wasn’t the Wookiee.

Moments later, the bunk mattress sank a little as a magnificently warm and naked body slipped under the covers behind him. Relief and excitement washed over him, but were just as quickly gone when he felt Leia’s smooth back press up against his as if she were intending to go right to sleep. A childish impulse took over and he couldn’t decide whether to roll over and embrace her or continue pretending to be asleep.

Leia grew very still. “Are you awake?” she asked in a soft voice.

Sparing only a second to wonder how she’d guessed correctly, he grumbled, “Disappointed?” The question came out sounding a lot more petulant than he’d intended and he gritted his teeth, wishing he could take it back.

Just as he’d feared, she took it as a personal accusation. He could hear a surprised intake of breath. “Of course not. Why would you ask that?”

“I barely saw you today, and then you wouldn’t talk to me. Was starting to get the feeling you were avoiding me.”

“And so naturally I came to hide in your bunk, hoping you’d be somewhere else tonight…?”

Leia had always possessed a way of cutting right through his arguments, like a lightsaber through paper, and tonight was no different. What was new was the obvious hurt in her tone.

“Well, when you put it that way…” Han murmured, now feeling like an idiot. She’d done nothing to deserve his resentment. Most of his frustration over the day had arisen from his own insecurities; her resumption of her usual duties had added fuel, but that was hardly her fault. What had he expected her to do? Drop everything so she could hang out on the _Falcon_ and keep him company while he sorted through his own emotional baggage? There was no question that her day had been hell, but rather than comfort her, he’d just piled on like an insensitive ass.

Although baffled by how and why they’d gotten so far off track, Han realized he needed to mend things. He shifted around onto his other side so he could spoon with her, his movements tentative as he draped his free arm across her waist and underneath her own, no longer certain that she would welcome his advances at this point.

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart,” he murmured. “I’m still trying to catch up.”

Her smaller hand moved to overlap his, and as their fingers intertwined, she pulled him closer, as if trying to wrap him around her like a favorite blanket. Only then did he dare a sigh in relief. Had this been their first true tiff as an official couple? The very idea scared him silly. How, in all the Hells of Kessel, was he supposed to avoid pitfalls like that when he wasn’t even sure what they looked like?!

_Never mind that—she’s here, isn’t she?_

His arousal spiked as he allowed the sensation of her naked skin against his and her very warmth to envelop him. He buried his face into the thick, loose knot of hair at the nape of her neck and inhaled deeply, all too happy to forget everything else. Without another word, he kissed her shoulder and gently slid their joined hands up from her midriff to caress her nearest breast. He could hear as well as feel her reaction, that familiar gasp and shiver and hardening of the nipple that signaled her own arousal.

To him, it only seemed like a few days since the last time they’d made love, but in between, he’d come so close to losing her—so close to losing everything. Now all his lust and admiration and gratitude for this woman threatened to overwhelm him as his pulse quickened. Foreplay for them had often incorporated banter and gentle teasing, but tonight’s emotions overrode any wordplay. Her low moan said all he needed to hear.

Leia released his hand and reached back to run her fingers through his hair, guiding his kisses around her neck, to that spot below her ear that they both knew was one of her most sensitive. He was more than happy to accommodate, his breath already harsh as his free hand roamed the smooth skin of her curves. Another little quiver ran through her small body as she arched under his touch, her bottom pressing against his ready erection in the universal signal of want; Han gripped her hip and ground against her in answer. He ran his tongue along the shell of her ear and she shuddered all over again, then she twisted around just enough to finally meet his eyes over her shoulder in the shadowed darkness before kissing him. Any remaining worries and frustrations were wiped away as he deepened the kiss; this was where he belonged, where she belonged, and everything would be okay now.

Without breaking away, Leia shifted around on the bunk to face him completely and took him into her arms, hooking a slender leg around his hips as she unleashed a fierce passion that caught him off guard. The majority of his free thoughts throughout the day had revolved around just this moment, imagining how it would be, and above all how he would take his time, deliberately losing track of the hours as he exhausted every possible way of expressing his appreciation for all she’d been through and all she meant to him. He’d planned to explore and pleasure every inch of her body and being, kissing away every scrape and bruise and bad memory until she was lost in rapture. But he wasn’t given the time—within moments, her hand had reached down between them to seize him with an insistent stroke, and then she was rolling onto her back and taking him with her, guiding him in, and all thoughts of holding back fled as he sank home and gasped with her at the abrupt rejoining of flesh and souls.

Shaking with the suddenness of it all, he tried to pull back a little, to regain his equilibrium, but Leia wasn’t stopping. He felt her fingernails dig into his back, her strong legs clasping tighter as she surged up against him in what felt like crazed desperation, and then his own instincts took over and he let out a guttural cry as he surrendered to their shared need and drove deeper.

Somewhere back in the darkest recesses of his mind, where rational thoughts had been shoved, he wondered at her transformation; he’d expected the six months of accumulated loneliness and anticipation to play a role, but he barely recognized Leia tonight. She was clutching at him so tightly, matching his thrusts with such force, that his bruised ribs made him wince, although he was past the point of stopping or caring. The pace she set all but guaranteed a quick finish for him and though he tried to hold out as long as he could, too soon the pleasure and fury and her own cries sent him over the edge and he shuddered to a finish. With his energy and passion suddenly spent, it was all he could do to keep from smothering her as he collapsed.

Panting as a secondary wave of heat and bliss rolled up his spine and into his chest, he muttered a heartfelt curse upon realizing he wasn’t even sure if Leia had reached her own climax. That was something that had never seemed to be a problem for them during their short history together as a pair, but it was obvious from the start that tonight’s circumstances had never been under his control.

As his senses returned and his heartbeat slowed, Han grew aware that she was still quaking beneath him, her breathing more ragged than it should have been. A new curiosity and concern made him leverage up onto an elbow so he could see her better in the red-tinted darkness. Rather than meet his gaze, she tossed her head to the side and tightened her arms, pulling him back down until his face was buried in the pillow, his cheek pressed against her wet one. Combined with the poorly masked sniffle he heard next, Han realized with a shock that something was very wrong indeed; she was crying. The discovery chased away all drowsiness in an instant.

“You okay?” he whispered into her hair, afraid of the answer he might get.

_If she says “I’m fine,” I might have to shake it out of her this time._

Leia’s hands moved over his back, one sliding over to clasp his shoulder while the other raked through his hair to hold his head against hers. Saying nothing, she just hugged him tighter, but he wasn’t going to settle for the status quo this time.

“It’s about what happened today, isn’t it?”

“Han…. Please….”

The pleading in her dulcet voice threatened to break his heart, but it couldn’t be helped. How were they ever going to get through any of their troubles if she couldn’t confide in him?

“Come on. Talk to me.”

There was another sniffle, and then she completely relaxed, her arms growing slack as if surrendering to the inevitable. “It’s my own fault….”

“What are you talking about?” he asked as he brought his hand up to brush away some of her dark hair so he could press his lips to her cheek.

Leia let out a half-strangled sigh and tried to move beneath him. Belatedly realizing that he was still pinning her to the mattress, Han shifted to the side enough so she could get more comfortable; she drew one knee up, let it rest against his hip, and then closed her eyes. “When I left to help rescue you, it was without the approval or blessings of most within High Command. In fact, it was against Mon Mothma’s direct orders. It’s her opinion that I went AWOL, and she’s making it very clear that I can no longer be trusted. As far as she’s concerned, my judgement was already on shakey ground because I continued to hire you despite knowing about your Death Mark. The rest of High Command, with the exception of Rieekan, is intimidated by her and has agreed to relieve me of duties.”

For a long, stunned moment, he didn’t even know how to respond. Then his outrage kicked in and he pushed himself up onto his elbow once more to stare down at her in shock. “They don’t _trust_ you?”

There were precious few beings in the universe that Han trusted, but Leia Organa was without question one of them. Hell, in his opinion, there wasn’t another person in the entire Rebellion more reliable or who’d sacrificed more for their cause—her world, her family, her peace of mind, her entire youth, and very possibly her future. To think anyone could question her dedication now, and over such a petty matter, was ludicrous.

It took another moment for the implication behind the rest of her words to sink in and strike him another blow; she was being punished now because she’d left the Alliance, however temporarily, just to rescue him. The very thought that he was responsible for her fall from grace left him devastated.

“It doesn’t matter,” Leia mumbled, using a hand to wipe away the last of her tears. She looked as if she’d already accepted all of this with fatalistic resignation.

“Of course it matters! I don’t know what kind of Bantha-shit logic those old—”

“It _doesn’t_ matter, Han! There are far more important things going on right now.”

That took some of the wind out of Han’s indignant sails. He held back, trying his hardest to be patient, waiting for her to elaborate.

Leia rocked her head to the side once more, her frustration obvious as she looked away for a long moment before meeting his eyes once again. “It’s still classified, but…I think you have a right to know because of last time.”

Mystified and wishing he could ignore his growing sense of dread, Han bit back his questions.

_Last time?_

Leia drew a long breath that sounded more like a gasp, then seemed to steady herself before continuing in the sort of emotionless tone that she usually reserved for statistics and inventory reports. “The Empire is constructing another _Death Star_. We’ve received reports from multiple sources confirming this. We don’t know where it is or how far along they’ve gotten, but if we’re unable to prevent them from completing the construction…I don’t think we’ll be so lucky again. That’s why the Alliance is assembled here. That’s why everything is so….”

She stopped, unable to say any more. She didn’t need to.

All the puzzle pieces had finally fallen into place—the amassed forces, the anxious atmosphere and Rieekan’s tactful questioning, her disappearance all day, the intensity of her passion tonight, and her tears now; all of it made sense, but at such a horrible price that he couldn’t contain his own shudder.

 _Another one. Another_ Death Star.

He wanted to curse, to rage and bend durasteel with his bare hands, and yet nothing seemed adequate. All he could do was lower himself back down and draw his princess back into his arms, then close his eyes and breathe her in once more, wishing the rest of the universe would just go away and leave them alone.

_Another one._


	6. Chapter 6

One unanticipated discovery Han had made during the long subspace trip spent with the princess had been how beautiful she looked in the early morning; with her lustrous hair disheveled and her expression still relaxed and sleepy, before she could put on the mask of leadership to hide those softer features, he could imagine she was simply Leia, no titles or obligations, special only to him. This morning, despite the distinctly somber mood within the cabin as they readied for the day, he was glad to see that hadn’t changed. Already dressed, he enjoyed the luxury of leaning against the edge of the open fresher door to watch as Leia arranged her hair.

Neither of them had slept well, and likewise had not spoken another word about the news she’d given him hours ago. What could he say that wouldn’t come off as trite or condescending? In any case, she would have seen right through the effort—she always had.

With her hands still up and working through her long tresses, Leia paused to spare a glance toward him, and it lifted his heart to see that she could still manage a wonderful smile just for him despite everything.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked.

“I’ll just have some kaffe.”

Han was prepared for that answer. Leia often skipped meals whenever she was stressed, and it had become obvious to him, while watching her dress, that she’d missed too many during his absence.

_That’s one thing I can try to fix._

“Come on, Sweetheart. I’m making something anyway so you might as well eat.”

Leia released a little sigh and then nodded in concession. “All right. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Satisfied, he left the bunk room and headed for the _Falcon_ ’s tiny galley, where he found Chewbacca had already brewed a fresh pot of kaffe. Han groaned in thanks as he poured a mug for himself. “Ah, Buddy, you are my favorite copilot.”

«I am your only copilot,» the Wookiee finished the old joke out of reflex before moving right on to business. «How are you feeling today?»

“Much better, but tired…. And whatever you’re about to say, stow it,” Han cut off the inevitable off-color comment before his old friend had a chance to deliver it, not at all in the mood to make fun of the reasons for his lack of sleep.

What was worse, he realized that he couldn’t tell Chewie why. Leia had said that the news was still classified, no doubt to prevent the Empire from catching wind that the Rebel Alliance had learned of their latest top-secret project. While she’d chosen to break that sworn silence with him, he’d already done enough damage to her credibility and wasn’t about to make a bad situation worse by betraying her trust, no matter how he felt about keeping his partner in the dark. He would have to settle for allowing Chewie to learn in due course with the rest of the troops. Instead, Han took a careful sip from his steaming mug and kept quiet.

A short while later, as they were still in the middle of preparing breakfast, Leia appeared. The galley was so small that he and his partner barely fit inside together, so she just peered in from the hatchway.

Han had a second mug of kaffe waiting for her and handed it over. The drink had cooled just enough so that after a cautious sip, she was able to take a healthy swig and then let out her usual little moan of ecstasy over her first kaffe of the day, something that never failed to give him a thrill. Then she cradled the warm mug in both hands and eyed what they were making, which was more elaborate than their usual efforts at breakfast.

“I should get going,” she said before taking another swallow.

Han stopped in the middle of chopping up some aromatics and gave her a sharp look. “You said you’d eat something.”

Clearly not wanting to argue, she reached past him for a piece of toasted bread already decorated with a smear of colorful fruit jam. “I am eating. But I need to go or I’ll be late.”

“Leia….” Han almost asked what she could possibly be late for now, but knew that was a low blow. Instead, he set down the knife and turned toward her just in time to have her empty mug passed back into his hands.

“Han….” She met his stern gaze with one of her own, her tone indicating she was just as capable of being stubborn this morning.

Recognizing that breakfast was a lost cause, he dropped the topic. “Will I at least see you later?”

His question must have caught her off guard because her expression softened, then she stepped closer and tilted her face up toward his, indicating she wished to be kissed. He accepted her invitation with pleasure, but just when he was getting comfortable, she broke away and backed out of range.

“Sooner if I can help it,” she promised before taking a bite of her toast and turning toward the exit at the other end of the hold.

Han watched her leave, unhappy with the uneven mixture of emotions churning through him this morning. Was this how it was going to be for them? Stealing moments of normality while the rest of the universe contrived to keep them apart? When he and Chewie began running missions again, it wasn’t as if she’d be riding along to keep him company. Maybe this was as good as it would get.

«She’s got a lot on her mind,» Chewie observed from behind Han.

Still facing out into the lounge, Han dropped his head for a moment, then glanced back over his shoulder at his partner. “Why? What did you hear?”

For a second, Han hoped the news of the _Death Star_ had already reached his partner, thus relieving that burden and allowing them to talk about it, but his hopes were dashed as the big Wookiee shrugged, shifted a pan off the heating element, and reached for a clean plate.

«The usual flight deck scuttlebutt. You two are still a popular topic.»

Han rolled his eyes in sudden exasperation. The novelty of being publicly discussed as Princess Leia Organa’s lover had worn off long before the reality had come to pass. He returned to the galley counter and his abandoned task, only to find Chewie had finished the chopping for him. “I don’t think that’s what’s bothering her,” he muttered more to himself than his partner.

«Probably not. Anyway, the tone’s changed from speculation on if you two were mating. Now it’s much more…hopeful.»

“Hopeful?” Han echoed with skepticism, afraid to ask for clarification but yet curious in the way one would be about a high-speed multi-speeder crash.

«Yes. If even _you_ two can find love in the middle of this war, then maybe there’s hope.»

Han stared at Chewbacca in disbelief.

«Of course, some of them continue to believe that she prefers Luke. I expect to make money on that one.»

This was turning into one of the most ridiculous conversations he’d ever had with his partner, and considering the many years they’d known one another, that was some tough competition.

“All right, all right, I’m sorry I asked.” Han grabbed a plate heaped with food and headed out toward the holochess table in the lounge.


	7. Chapter 7

It took some effort, but Han finally found a repair he could afford. His plan was to disconnect the indicator panel to the _Falcon_ ’s shielding controls and then color-coordinate the lights properly, replacing the haphazard color scheme that was the result of years of random repairs. Chewie had already positioned an empty packing crate out in the brighter lights of the docking bay as a temporary workbench, and Han was looking forward to digging in with relish, glad to at last have something constructive to do.

Before he could start, he would need to requisition the series of replacement lights and that meant swallowing any knee-jerk resentment he felt toward Leia’s new boss. While the thought stuck in his craw like a fork gone sideways, he admitted that Lieutenant Krate was just as much a pawn as she was in whatever vindictive game Mon Mothma was playing. Besides, Han’s official sign-up made Krate his direct supervisor as well, so he might as well get used to the idea.

Intending on making it a quick trip, Han set out in the direction of the Supplies depot, attached to the adjacent and much larger docking bay. As he passed through the hallways, there was a noticeable new energy in the air—a tension even greater than what had greeted Han upon their return to the Alliance fleet the day before. Runners, both human and mechanical, were racing down the white corridors in all directions.

“What the hell…?” he mumbled aloud as once again he had to step out of the way or risk a collision. He came to an abrupt halt upon arriving at the depot to find a crowd of soldiers and other personnel already packing the entrance to Supplies. In stark contrast to the tense silence elsewhere, these men had the jaunty air of veterans, joking and talking loudly as they waited. The line was long and didn’t appear to be moving. Having nothing else to do, Han decided to simply watch the commotion, leaning against a corridor wall as he waited for the crowd to clear. He felt frustrated that his plans for the day might be foiled by this development, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go. Besides, with any luck, he might even spot Leia within the crowd.

“Captain Solo.”

At the sound of his name, Han straightened up away from the wall and turned to recognize the sandy-haired and bearded figure of General Crix Madine approaching from the opposite direction. He was the youngest of the High Command staff, and a fellow Corellian.

“General,” Han greeted with a smile. “Long time, no see.”

They’d met back on the old base on Serricci, when Han had been paid to transport the general through a particularly tricky blockade and deliver him to another cell on the Inner Rim planet of Moorja. They’d talked during that trip, and although he’d never gotten to know this general on the same level as Rieekan, Han had judged him to be of similar ability and temperament and he’d liked that in the man. Knowing he would be ferrying such high-level personnel had served as Han’s excuse to build another makeshift cabin next to Chewie’s in the rear hold, although since then, the only VIP to use the space had been Princess Leia, a happy coincidence.

“I heard what happened to you after Hoth and I’m glad to see you’re back with us, Captain,” the man said in welcome as he reached out to shake Han’s hand in a strong grip. “I also understand you’ve finally signed up.”

Resuming his relaxed pose against the wall, Han nodded as they both glanced toward the press of loud soldiers ahead of them. “Yeah, well, I figured it was probably time to make it official.”

“You couldn’t have picked a better time. We need everyone we can get. We need leaders.”

That comment drew Han’s attention back but he held his tongue. Extended exposure to Leia and Rieekan had taught him to spot a recruiting speech a parsec away.

“I remember how you handled yourself back on Findior when things went tits-up. You were good with a blaster, you kept your head, and the men listened to you. That’s a combination that isn’t easy to come by.”

Han’s gaze went back to the raucous crowd blocking the corridor, and only then did he begin to notice the sort of equipment being distributed to the men: helmets and camouflaged dungarees, bush gear and condensed field rations, weapons and spare energy packs.

_Sweet holy Kest, they know!_

The realization sent a shiver up Han’s spine. This wasn’t just another exercise; this was a strike team preparing for immediate deployment.

_They know where the Death Star construction site is._

“What…?” Han began, but then stopped. It was crazy to ask. It was crazy to even think it.

“What’s that?” Madine prompted, given Han an expectant look. Maybe he’d guessed where Han’s thoughts had led him, or maybe not.

_Oh Kest, they’ve found it._

Han drew a deep breath, feeling as if he were about to dive into the deepest, darkest pool of water with no clear way of getting back out. “What do you need?” Han heard himself ask.

Madine’s blue eyes met Han’s, and the general’s well-groomed beard couldn’t hide his look of satisfaction. “We need someone to lead this team right here. Someone who’s good at clandestine operations and can think on his feet. I’ve already got the plans and transport for the operation, but I haven’t settled on a leader yet. We were already spread thin before we lost some of our best back on Hoth. I’ll have to do it if I can’t find someone else fast, but that will leave a vacuum back here at the command center.”

Han was only half-listening now as his eyes raked over the crowd in desperation.

_Where the hell is Leia?!_

“They’re leaving tonight,” Madine finished in a lower tone, his expression turning grim. “Time is running out.”

Han’s heart was pounding so hard that it sounded like a timpani drum in his ears. He wanted time to talk with Chewie or, hell, even Lando. He wanted somebody to talk him out of what he was considering, and then he realized none of them would have if they’d been there; every friend he could have turned to for that voice of reason was already wholeheartedly committed to this course. They were prepared to leave him behind once again—only this time, he had a choice.

_Oh Kest…._

“All right, I’ll do it.”


	8. Chapter 8

The eye of the storm in which Han had been sheltered since returning from Tatooine had suddenly shifted off of him and he found himself caught up in the same whirlwind as the rest. General Madine wasted no time in giving Han a preliminary briefing of the situation as it stood; the location, logistics, and known Imperial security of their target, and finally their multipronged plan of attack that included the gathered Alliance fleet. While the main attack would happen in orbit around Endor, against the off-world construction site of the _Death Star_ , their success still hinged on the tactical assault against the shield generator based on the surface of Endor.

Madine led Han to the barracks section aboard the flagship to introduce him to the men gathered there who would form his crack assault team. After that, as a group, they’d relocated to a large plotting room adjacent to the bridge, with stadium seating that featured a holoplotter in the center. Here was where the finer details and strategies would be hashed out. What normally would have taken weeks of planning and rehearsing, they were about to attempt with only hours of preparation, but they didn’t have the luxury of time. Although they had learned that the battle station was still incomplete, no one knew when the massive weapon would actually become operational, at which point it would likely be too late to mount an attack. They pored over every scrap of intelligence gleaned by their spies, corroborating reports and figuring out the best plan of attack, to be launched as soon as possible.

Sometime later, General Rieekan arrived in the room. He drew both Madine and Han off to the side and got right to the point. “Solo, I’ve talked with the rest of High Command, and after some consideration, they’ve accepted my recommendation to grant you the field commission of general.”

Stunned by this news, Han couldn’t hide his incredulity. “What? Did you guys run out of lower ranks? I don’t need to be a general. Lieutenant or commander will do. Hell, I’d be happy with just being private on a day pass.”

Both Rieekan and Madine laughed, then each reached out to shake Han’s hand.

“That’s what I like about you, General Solo,” Rieekan said. “You don’t let the titles get in the way.”

Once again left wondering how much meaning he was supposed to read into Rieekan’s words, Han returned to the task at hand and poured all of his renewed energy into making sure that no detail was overlooked. They would probably only get one chance at this and it was his responsibility to make it count; there was no room for failure, no consolation prize for a half-success. Better than most people, Han understood exactly what was at stake; he’d been one of the first witnesses to stumble across Alderaan’s debris field, and since then, he’d dealt on an almost-daily basis with the damage wrought to its most famous survivor.

It was with both shock and dismay that Han paused to glance at a chrono and saw that they had less than fifteen minutes remaining before the final summary briefing for the general staff would begin, at which point, the proceedings would be replayed throughout the rest of the fleet once they’d jumped to hyperspace. Only now, with a start, did Han realize that he’d yet to even notify Chewbacca of the drastic change in plans. Mortified by his lapse, he grabbed at the cylindrical com unit attached to his belt and pinged its sister unit on the Wookiee’s bandolier.

A moment later, he heard an understandably grouchy Wookiee at the other end. «Where the hell are you? I thought we were going to—»

“Chewie! Never mind that! I need you to come up to the briefing room up on the bridge, right now! Hurry up!”

Ending the call, Han stared at the transponder for a long moment, not for the first time wishing Leia carried one as well. If he survived this mission, he would have to remedy that situation, too. Where the hell was she, anyway? With a sinking feeling, he realized he had no idea how or when he could break this news to Leia. Once again, he’d gone nearly an entire day without seeing a trace of her. The very thought that he might miss saying goodbye, miss being able to hold and kiss her one last time and have her wish him luck….

_Where the kreth is Threepio when you need him?!_

It suddenly occurred to him that he could simply have her paged over the intercom system. Kicking himself for not thinking of that sooner, Han swung around and headed toward the exit where a communication panel was located then drew up short, his stomach lurching as a petite figure clad in khaki and coils of brunette hair entered the room along with a group of other personnel including Lieutenant Krate. He was too late.

_This is one mistake you’re probably going to regret sooner rather than later._

Leia spotted Han and a look of happy surprise and then confusion washed over her face. She mouthed the question “Why?” at him. No doubt she was baffled by his appearance at a meeting for which she thought he lacked the proper clearance to attend.

Resuming his usual nonchalance, Han hooked one thumb into his belt and answered her silent query with a meek little wave of the other hand. This was not how he would have planned it, but now he was going to have to wing it. He took a step in her direction, but stopped again as another cluster of uniformed staff walked in at that moment, including what looked like the rest of High Command aboard. As the noise level increased exponentially, Han scanned over the newcomers, then did a double-take and nearly laughed out loud.

_Now I’ve seen it all!_

Breaking away and striding toward Han, nattily dressed in a general’s uniform so new it still had creases, and sporting a matching caplet Han was sure wasn’t regulation, was Lando Calrissian. While Han had already been apprised of Calrissian’s major role in their battle plan, it was nonetheless a shock to see him decked out in uniform.

“Well, look at you!” Han called out as Lando drew near. “A general, huh?”

Lando looked abashed, even as he smiled at the teasing. “Somebody must have told them about my little maneuver at the Battle of Taanab.”

“Well, don’t look at me, pal,” Han lied, shrugging off the accusation, not feeling the least bit guilty. At least he knew his counterpart in the other half of this attack and he wouldn’t be going into this crazy adventure alone. “I just said you were a fair pilot. I didn’t know they were looking for somebody to lead this crazy attack.”

Lando gave him a shrewd look. “I’m surprised they didn’t ask you to do it.”

Han grinned, realizing that pretty much everyone in the room was about to get the shock of their lives. “Well, who says they didn’t? But I ain’t crazy. You’re the respectable one, remember?”

The large hairy figure of Chewbacca, bent at the waist as he stepped through the hatchway, caught Han’s eye and he waved his friend over to them, then turned back to Calrissian. He was about to say more, but was interrupted as a soft pinging sound filled the room, indicating the meeting was about to start. He stepped over to quietly greet Chewie, and then glanced around in time to see Leia break away from her group and head toward him. The little smile she gave him still showed puzzlement as she took the seat next to him, but she had no opportunity to ask as the room grew silent.

Mon Mothma, one of the most influential leaders of High Command and a former Imperial and Old Republic senator, stepped out to the center of the floor and announced, “The Emperor has made a critical error and the time for our attack has come….”

Han watched as a ripple of excitement and trepidation moved through the crowd, including the big Wookiee next to him, and then his attention refocused on the young woman at his side. Leia hadn’t moved, hadn’t made a sound; she looked as pale and motionless as a stone statue.

_This one’s for you, Princess._


	9. Chapter 9

The unanticipated appearance of Luke Skywalker, dressed in his distinctive all-black garb with lightsaber hanging from his belt—something the galaxy had not seen for over two decades—had a dramatic effect as the meeting came to an end; the room burst into a roar of excited voices when everyone began talking at once, particularly about having a genuine Jedi knight on their side in the upcoming battle.

Han was immediately pulled away from Leia’s side by General Madine and led across the crowded room to be congratulated by the rest of High Command. He barely registered their names, going through the motions of shaking hands and exchanging wishes of good luck as his mind raced through the complications Luke’s unannounced arrival introduced. He was happy to see Luke back safely, but there was a part of him that found the Jedi’s abrupt self-insertion into his strike force to be an unknown and almost unwelcome addition. He wasn’t totally thrilled with Leia’s own volunteering either, for that matter, but at least he knew what she was capable of in a fight and it also meant he would know exactly where she was at all times as the attack unfolded. But Luke had changed drastically, and something in the man’s insistence on coming along with the commando team smacked of a personal agenda. The little scene of Leia breaking with decorum to run up and hug Luke, right in the middle of the conference in front of everyone—truth be told, right in the middle of his moment—had only enhanced the oddly bitter taste left in his mouth now.

_What was that all about, anyway?_

Han scanned the room until Leia caught his eye. She was still standing with Luke and the others, but she crooked a finger at him, beckoning him to follow her. He needed no more motivation. With all their attack plans set and the mobilization already underway, Han decided the Alliance could spare him for a few minutes while he got his own affairs in order. Extricating himself from the conversation, he made his way through the milling crowd and trailed behind her at a discreet distance as she headed for the exit and then around a bend in the corridor. Leia disappeared into one of the smaller conference rooms that lined the passageway. With an anticipatory smirk, he paused to glance back to see if anyone had followed them, then followed her inside.

The door had barely slid closed behind him when Han suddenly found himself facing one very irate-looking Alderaani princess. One was more than enough. All erotic thoughts he’d been entertaining evaporated faster than morning dew on Tatooine.

“Damn you!”

Instinct and habit made Han hold his hands up in front of him. “Leia…. Sweetheart….”

The princess breezed right by his defenses to jab a stiffened finger at his chest. Even though she only came up to his shoulders in stature, there was nothing petite about her at that moment; there was enough force behind that finger to make him take a step back and rub the sore spot.

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me! Don’t you _dare_ ‘sweetheart’ me.”

He’d guessed she might be unhappy to be one of the last people to find out, but he’d clearly underestimated her reaction. From that fateful day they’d met in the detention block corridor on the first _Death Star_ , he’d seen this woman kill when necessary; he’d been impressed by her efficiency and levelheadedness, and more than once, he’d been deeply grateful to have her at his back. But for one agonizing moment now, he was getting a taste of what it was like to be on the receiving end of her wrath and he thanked his lucky socks that she was unarmed.

_Don’t kid yourself. You saw what she did without a blaster back on Ord Mantell._

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or break your kneecaps!” she growled, her dark eyes still flashing danger and her potentially lethal fists clenched at her sides.

“Do I get a say in which—?”

“For Sith’s sake, shut up!”

He wisely shut his mouth as Leia continued to fume and stare hard at him as though he were a complete stranger. To be fair, maybe he was.

After a long, tense moment of silence, just when he was about to risk another attempt at defusing the situation, he was spared the effort as all her visible anger drained away as quickly as it had flared up, leaving behind a residue of betrayal and sadness in her dark eyes. “You couldn’t have told me sooner? Last night?”

Han drew a short breath, now feeling genuinely contrite. The last thing he’d expected or wanted to do was hurt her. “Leia….”

“I looked like a fool in there, Han. After all this time, to spring _that_ on _me_ in _there_.”

“I’m really sorry. It just happened this morning. I wanted to tell you but we ran out of time.”

Leia shook her head and turned away before making a vicious swipe across her face with a shirtsleeve, then she pressed her hand against her cheek in an attempt to stop unshed tears. “As if I haven’t lost all credibility already….”

Her miserable words forced Han to swallow back whatever platitudes he’d been lining up to say next. With that one comment, she’d not only reminded him of the guilt he felt for everything she’d sacrificed on his behalf, but she’d pointed out how this could only add to the already-negative opinion High Command had of her. And now he’d topped things off by demonstrating just how out-of-the-loop she was in front of the entire fleet staff, many of whom had once deferred to her; it must have felt like the final insult. For the first time since their return from Tatooine, Han couldn’t help wondering if she was regretting her choice of a week ago, or even six months ago; his sudden spike in respectability had come at the price of her own.

“If any of them think you’re less dedicated now, they’re fools. They don’t—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, and although it was barely a whisper, Leia’s voice sounded hoarse, as if she’d been shouting all day. “The damage is done. They talk….”

_Is that it? Is that what’s bothering her?_

“Sweetheart, they’ve _always_ talked. Ever since that Majority party back on Serricci when we—”

Leia turned back to him, cutting him off yet again with a shake of her head. “I don’t mean about us.”

Han paused, trying to decipher her meaning. “Well, I still don’t give a damn what they think.”

“That’s easy for you to say, but this is all I have.”

Whether or not she’d meant to hurt him, those words hit Han like a punch in the gut. He watched in silence as she walked away to stand before the oval table that dominated the small room. She stared out the large viewport set in the opposite wall, the fingertips of one of her graceful hands coming to rest on the polished tabletop. Seeing her poised like that, he was reminded of all the times he’d watched her preparing to give a speech. Even from this angle, he knew her habits so well he could predict her next moves: the deep breath, the straightening of those narrow shoulders, her head tipping a little to the right, just so.

Did she still really see her entire world as nothing more than this damned Rebellion? Did he still not factor into her equation? Sure, he had nothing to offer her other than his devotion, but he’d almost convinced himself that might be enough. Maybe he’d been fooling himself all this time after all. “If you still want to leave, I’ll take you,” he murmured, at a loss for anything else to say.

Leia glanced over a shoulder to look back at him, and as her initial confusion slowly morphed into understanding, Han held out hope that maybe they weren’t quite as out of sync as he’d thought. Then her features settled into a strange mix of bemused resignation and sadness. “To keep flying?”

“If that’s what you want. Just say the word and we’re gone.”

Leia sank down into one of the chairs and looked back out toward the field of starships and stars beyond. On Bespin, she’d dared him to do just that—to take her far away—and he’d turned her down for what he’d thought were noble reasons. Now she appeared to be dismissing that one solution he could offer as if it were a well-worn joke. How could so much have changed?

“You’ve finally accepted a commission and yet you _still_ talk of leaving. You drive me crazy.”

Han nodded to himself; that made two of them. “I know.”

He saw her twitch and heard the faintest laugh, nothing more than a whisper. Then she said, “Leaving would just prove them right.”

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” he quipped. Realizing he wasn’t ready to give up yet, Han walked over and rested a hand on her shoulder, then slowly swiveled her chair around until she was forced to face him. “You don’t deserve this, Leia. Not ever.”

She closed her eyes, and he liked to think she was savoring his words the way he’d meant them. “It doesn’t matter. This isn’t about me anymore,” she said.

Still not understanding but desperately wanting to, Han took a seat in the neighboring chair and leaned in close enough that his knees bracketed hers.

“I can’t leave now,” she said without further prompting. “If you had asked me last night, I was prepared to say yes, but now that we know for a fact where this new _Death Star_ is…. All my life, I’ve believed those old Jedi philosophers were fools to preach about being unable to escape one’s destiny, but maybe they were right. I escaped last time, but maybe I’ve just been putting off the inevitable.”

Not liking where this dark tangent was heading, he reached out to take her hands. “Those old crackpots _were_ full of Bantha shit. You make your own destiny.”

Leia gripped his hands. “Eloquent as ever.”

“But you know I’m right.”

She brought his hands together between her own and squeezed them, then continued holding them like that in her lap. “Right or wrong, I can’t run away from this. Now that I’m back where I started.”

“You’re not back where you started. Everything’s different this time.”

Leia searched his eyes for a long moment, her gratitude and affection clear for the first time since they’d left the briefing room. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Like I said, there’s a first time for everything.” He knew there was nothing like a little self-deprecating humor at his expense to brighten her up, and he’d called the right play. The corners of her mouth twitched up in spite of everything.

She glanced away again, out toward the permanent night sky, then squeezed his hands one more time. “We should probably go back before they notice we’ve disappeared.”

“Let them notice. They can wait a few more minutes,” he said, and meant it.


End file.
